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antisocialmia · 2 months

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Dr. W. Afton headcanons

sfw and nsfw mentioned -> mdni

gen!neutral reader, just silly thoughts and mostly sweet (I hope) probably not readproof so sorry for any writing mistakes.

Dr. W. Afton from the game 'Thats Not My Neighbour'

Disclaimer!! I dont own the character or anything. Just trying to support the creators.

Art credits: @_.calitryx on TikTok

Appearance

probably about 5'11 to 6'0 tall

takes really good care of his facial hair (the maximum it gets are two days before he shaves again)

see him something between slim and yet muscular, sleeper build

slim waist and his shoulders on the broader side

Cake. Thats it.

his hands are rather on the rough side but he tries to take care of them

long fingers and takes the cleaning of his hands very seriously??

he has defined features but not like too sharp

Random

he has knee issues

addicted to coffee, also his very first thought after waking up

has a habit of sleeping in when he has a day off

or so he says ─ the first time you slept over he was awake at 7.

takes a lot of time for his hair in the bathroom

was insecure about his nose in his teens but learned to accept it nonetheless

he's left-handed

randomly mutturs out some facts throughout the day

he needs to push up his glasses pretty often because he once broke them by sitting down on them but refused to get them fixed

"its only a little bent." Yeah, a whole 90 degrees

he has a picture of you in his wallet

probably all his colleges know about you at this point

he's such a yapper once talking about a topic he enjoys maybe just a little too much ─ but you let him because who can say no to someone like him?

notices the tiniest changes of literally anything

going from things laying somewhere else in his apartment to the act of a person he's talking to

also the type of guy who watches you look at something a little too long and buys it for you as a present later

he remembers everything, literally has the brain of an elephant. 'I remember you saying you wish you had that so I got it for you.'

Style

you might actually mistake him for a phyics teacher (that damn checker pattern)

closet is mostly filled with linen shirts and some suit pants

'thats all he ever needed' ─ his words

color variates, he has almost every color but those bright ones.

of course he has some home clothes (you love to steal)

comfortable sweats and cozy sweaters

great taste when it comes for comfortable clothing ─ always manages to get the most fluffy ones too.

for jewlery, he only wears his watch around his left wrist

Activities

he probably has a gym membership but never actually goes

if you go tho, he might join you

in his freetime he loves to jog

loves to explore new things, like new recipes to new games (If mobile or not)

playfights usually end up with him laying down on you with his full weight

always has a stupid grin on his face when he does that

Apartment

he's completely clean, not freaky clean tho

there's not a single dust grain

but hes not too pressed about it ─ he simply enjoys tidying his apartment

gives him some sort of comfort

you can also find sometimes his clothes over the couch or laying on the ground, which is rare but it happens

his job doesnt require too much of his time so he has plenty of time at home

Relationships

like said before, he had some insecurities

confidence wasnt his thing in his teens (He was probably one of those 'uhm actually' kids but unintentionally.)

changed in his 20's ─ went out regulary but never found anything that could have gone further

which changed when you came around

so, he indeed was experienced but you taught him things aswell

love language is physical touch and acts of service (also words of affirmation)

loves random hugs and gives them too

huge on pda and shows it too

he really loves to just embrace you and cuddle with you on the couch or in bed while watching a movie or show

sleeping with him is hell

he's tussing and turning all night long, but only If you arent in his grasp

once youre trapped in his arms there's no way out and he wont move a single inch

small snores, but only once in a while ─ barely noticable too.

has all sorts of nicknames for you 'baby' , 'love' , 'honey' , 'sugar' , 'cupcake' you name it.

NSFW -> mdni

a complete switch

service dom

lives to do what you tell him to

to the location -> probably everywhere in the apartment when youre up to it

high-sex drive and probably lasts atleast 2 rounds

gets super touchy when he's worked up and just hints what he wants instead of saying it directly

he's shy! Just catch up to what he's implying.

knows the difference between harder and faster

also, not exactly into hard bdsm but isnt shy to explore with you either

praising to the top with him

you wont catch him letting out one word that would degrade

loves physical touch so this is his time to shine

body worshiping

kisses every inch of skin his lips can reach and then again

always tells you how good youre doing and how proud he is of you for taking him that well.

he's not.. exactly small either

a true mystery how he keeps it hidden beneath those forbidden pants

he loves to mark you, not for claiming and only for his eyes to see (maybe on the nape of your neck but not further)

basically, he does it how you want it. Romantic, slow and tender? He's in with all at it. Rose pedals even.

in the mood for something more rough and- ahem- man handling? Sure. He's in. But expect a godly aftercare ─ he can't stand the thought of hurting you

Aftercare

whenever, he's all sweet and gentle

acting as If youre made out of glass and will break any moment

once again he'll do anything you ask him to do.

a bath? 'Of course, my love.' Just a simple glass of water? Its already on your nightstand. Cuddles? Thats already happening before you had the thought. A massage? 'Just relax,'

a dream, literally.

he'll clean you both up without a second thought and wont let you lift a finger

if you do, youre met with a pouty expression on his face.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it. A little rushed.

#thats not my neighbor #headcanon #dr w afton #smut #D.D.D.#actually made for my friend??#physicist #down bad #thats not my neighbour Dr. W. Afton

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m0oooon-presence · 11 months

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It was a snowy night in Umberland. They were celebrating a holiday. It was called Pumpkinscratch. It was almost like Christmas but with more pie. Mephisto held a meeting. It was really important. He had decided that since all the monsters were still turned into apples they should make toys. He had decided that since people were still roaming free they should turn into unicorns. He had decided that since there was no children who could stop him, they should die. The church bells were ringing. He had decided to unleash his newest creation on the human world.

That man in the far back wasn't really a man. He was a cornucopia. His was so big he fit in the room. A little pie was floating in the air. That sounded nice. No one really knew where the 'man' came from, but they sure didn't know why he was still hanging around. They assumed that the creator was somewhere in the room. They hoped to find him when they found that recipe. If they only knew what that recipe would be found in...

Another man had showed up just as the first one was going on about how his recipe was needed. They didn't take kindly to him. Then a man came in. He looked just like Mephisto, but he was a dog. He wasn't exactly a werewolf, but he had large teeth and little glowing eyes. He made a squeaking sound, as if to say hello. His fur was a dark green color with a little black line around his nose and mouth.

Mephisto told him to go away. The dog got up and howled. Then a man was there. He was half horse and half bat. His nose was black with black spots. His teeth were little needles. He had a terrible stench. His eyes were amber. He too made a howling noise. ''What do you want?'' they asked the man. ''I need a recipe for a monster.' 'No. And neither do you.' 'Hey! What the hell is going on here?' 'Nothing,' someone whispered. Mephisto nodded to a man and he started to write something. 'That man is telling the truth. And you don't have one either,' said Mephisto.

They looked at the strange-looking man. 'And how do you know that?' They asked. 'I can smell your fear, and the fear in your mind is terrible.' The monster's eye narrowed. 'Perhaps you should be afraid, human.' 'Why would I be afraid of something I don't know about?' asked the dog. 'Because you do,' said the bat. 'Hogwash,' said the pie. 'What are you going to do about it?' asked Mephisto. 'What would be the point in doing anything? If I try to stop you now, you will probably just ignore me. I'm only just taking shape.' 'We will all be dead in two weeks,' said a ghost. 'Yes,' said the unicorn. 'You will die.' said the cornucopia. 'It is the will of Mephisto.' 'We don't even know who he is.' 'Then we will observe how he deals with this mess.'

The sun was setting. It was night time. Everyone was asleep. The human was going to try and make a toy. It was a cute little monster made out of a rubber band. But the monster couldn't really move unless it was pulled. It couldn't even scream. Its eyes were open but there was no life in them. The human went to sleep. He never saw the monster move. He never heard it. When he woke up it was morning and the monster was gone. There were no tears. He never even noticed the monster.

The dog had made a best friend. And he didn't want to play with anyone else. It was noon. The 'man' had come in again. The goat had nothing to do with the door. ''Hey, everyone.'' The rest of them came out of their rooms to see what the goat wanted.

'I don't know what you're talking about, goat,' said Mephisto. 'I know everything, Mephisto,' said the goat. ''You know we have to go to war with your pies. Whether you want us to or not.' 'You want war? Go back to bed. We are in a state of war already. We are at war with your people.' 'Whatever. We will use guns and bombs against you. The world has been on its knees for too long. How about it, pie, you want war?' 'Not a chance, butt-face.' 'Don't call me that. You will remember the little monster who bit you.' 'Just leave us alone. Go kill yourself.' 'Kill yourself, what?' 'Kill yourself.' 'I'm not a p***y pie. I'll put a wall between us and you if I have to.'

Mephisto thought about this. A war would be a great idea, if there wasn't such a large chance of collateral damage. It would certainly make his day. It would make everyone's day. It might even make his life. But if he saw this going horribly wrong he might just change his mind. There might be innocent people. It wouldn't be fair to kill them. 'I can't kill now. I have to be in peace, pie.' 'So do I.' 'Go to sleep. It is only noon.'

The dog began to think about his relationship with his little toy. It hadn't made a noise since last night. He was worried that it was dead. But he couldn't do anything about it now. It was too late. He loved his toy. He hoped that he had taught it something. He hoped it would remember him. If it didn't, he didn't want to know. Mephisto was in the kitchen one room over. He was making a pie. He was throwing something that looked like ears into a pan. It had a human's eyes, nose, and mouth on it. It was red and brown and grey, which was strange, because everything that wasn't human was green or blue.

He was just about to add a mouth when Mephisto put his finger on the doorknob and it turned. He looked at Mephisto and thought about his friends. His little toy. His toys. The other humans. He didn't want to hurt them. But Mephisto was scary. He wasn't as nice as everyone thought. He didn't deserve to be eaten. But what was he to do? He ran to the door.

Mephisto did not expect this. He opened the door, and the dog charged at him. Mephisto backed away, reaching for a spoon. He stabbed the dog in the neck. It made a loud, ugly noise. Mephisto was concerned. He held the dog up to his face and smelled the thick, blood. It was the red stuff that came out of the pie. 'Good eating,' said Mephisto. 'But first we must eat your friends. Can I make a wall?' 'Go get them,' said the dog. ''Get your friends?' said Mephisto. 'Go get them? Go get them from where? Why?' 'I don't know,' replied the spoon.

The dog rushed to the room with the other humans. It couldn't see them, but it could hear them. The plates clanged. The spoons banged. And then the wall went up. Mephisto leaned against it. He couldn't believe it. This was the greatest idea he had ever had. This was a very bad idea. The wall was probably too thick to climb through, and even if he did, he would be stuck between him and his friends. But no, it it had to be this way. He would eat them first, then destroy them.

It was good that it had gone up, because now he would eat the first one. It was a good dog. It didn't want to eat Mephisto. But Mephisto didn't really want it to eat him. There was a second wall that he was going to go through. He opened it up and saw his friend, covered in blood, holding a spoon. He was crying. He was afraid. But he did not run away. He was too hungry. He could smell pie. He ate him and ate him and ate him. The third wall went up.

He could hear the humans. He thought he heard crying. He ate them. He ate the woman's arm, then her eye, and then her knee. Then he bit the soldier's leg off. He heard him screaming in pain. He didn't like that. He knew he couldn't kill humans, but he still didn't like it. He drank the blood of the table, but there was no pie. The oven was closed. But Mephisto was hungry, so he ate some more humans, then a table. He didn't like the table.

#ai generated except the first few sentences

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x0401x · 3 years

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Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #15

Feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

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Richard-sensei’s Cooking Classroom

On a bright morning in Kandy, a provincial town from Sri Lanka, a man was standing still in his kitchen. Leaning against the wall was a Japanese book titled “Breakfast for People Who Live Alone”. There were three items on the menu. Just an omelet with ketchup on top, boiled sausages and fruit salad yogurt.

Regardless, the kitchen where the man was standing was an explosion of colors, as if it were the atelier of some Dadaist painter. Perhaps he was wrong in trying to make an omelet, the blond man thought, tilting his head despondently. Loved by the god of beauty, his blond hair swayed smoothly, and on the wall behind him, the exploded omelet was scattered in all directions, giving off an artistic atmosphere. It was obvious that in order to cook an omelet on a frying pan, it was necessary to shake up said pan, but the specific method of how hard one should shake it had not even once made an appearance in his life, much like fairies and unicorns from fictional stories. As a result of him jerking the pan with moderate adjustment, the omelet had flown off, hitting the wall and dripping down under the influence of gravity.

The beautiful man cast his eyes at the opposite side of the kitchen with a melancholic look as well. His golden eyelashes reflected a rainbow-colored prism and shone like an emerald-green sea under the morning sun. In a corner, where a microwave and water heater sat on top of the kitchen table, something orange had burst all over the place from within the microwave. Just why did food blow up so often, the man wondered, silently ashamed of his ignorance for trying to reduce just two rules of thumb to common sense. When he put three vacuum-packed blood sausages in the microwave and warmed them up, the sausages lost their original shape with a faint explosive sound. Obeying the instructions that said, “Bain-marie or microwave”, the man had chosen the microwave, which seemed less difficult, but probably due to some process being neglected or the heating time being incorrect, the sausages had undergone a magical transformation, looking like some sort of eerie monster.

Moving his feet so as not to make a sound, the man headed to the dining room, lightly placing a hand on the large table and elegantly gazing at the tabletop. Fragments of yellow and green were floating on a sea of white.

“Fruits yogurt,” the man whispered, as if it were a magic spell, heaving a spring breeze-like sigh.

It was just chopped fruits floating on yogurt. Taking into account the possibility that he could not cut the fruits too meticulously, the man was out of luck to have a slicer with him, and by the moment he realized that this one was apparently not supposed to be used for fruits but rather for slicing things such as cabbages and carrots into thin pieces, the fruits that he had failed to chop had gone flying over the table, surrounding the bowl of yogurt and instantaneously creating a Genesis-like scene on the tabletop. It was chaos.

On 360 degrees, no matter where he looked, it was a foodstuff hell. After looking around one more time at the artistic misery he had created and sighing coarsely, he started anew and began doing a quick cleaning.

“Morning, Richard. You slept well, I see.”

“Good morning, Seigi. So you wake up early even in Sri Lanka. Short sleepers have shorter lives. Didn’t you go to bed yesterday when it was already past midnight?”

“That’s fine for today. I have a guest here, after all. I’ll catch up with my sleep tomorrow.”

“I have not done so much to be called a ‘guest’.”

“There, there; let’s leave that for after we eat.”

His face looking like he was checking on something, the man whose appearance was impeccable even first-thing in the morning, as usual, glanced at the kitchen and dining room of my Sri Lankan house, and then let out a tiny sigh, stopping by a place close to the garden.

“Hey, could it be you woke up early this morning? Like, around 5AM...”

“Why?”

“I wonder if it was my imagination.”

In this three-story house, the first floor was a shared space for the dining room and bathroom, while the second and third floors had bedrooms. The room that I used as my main one was on the second floor, and the room on the third floor was used when Richard came over to be my overseer, but only the first floor had a bathroom. Whenever someone was going down to the first floor, one could tell by the sound of them stepping on the stairs. That was no big deal when I was alone, but this was the kind of house that would disturb other people’s sleep if I didn’t walk quietly whenever I needed to use the toilet in the middle of the night.

At around five o’clock, probably because I was drowsy, I had the feeling that someone had gone downstairs. I went back to sleep thinking that maybe Richard, who was looking after me despite having a jetlag, felt like having a late-night snack or something, but it was apparently a wrong guess.

Said man, dressed in a soft-looking shirt and the beige pants that he usually wore when he was relaxed, was standing still with eyes wide-open. It seemed he had noticed what was on the table. I was happy with the reaction.

“I’ve got breakfast for us. Hope it suits your taste.”

“Why? You said yesterday that your breakfast was just cereal and fruits.”

“I indeed said this yesterday, but I wanted to show it’s really not like that every single day. I also didn’t want you to worry for no reason.”

Plain omelets, sausages and fruit salad. For some reason, this house had many pottery dishes from European brands instead of Sri Lankan ones, but they were working out well for today. The paintings of green and pink pedicels over a white background were apparently from a German brand. It was actually my first time making a breakfast like this, which looked like it could show up in a commercial for some newly built apartment building and wasn’t as filling as its appearance suggested, but it had been surprisingly fun.

“I saw the recipe book in the kitchen. It’s a present for me, right? Thank you. I was happy to read a book in Japanese after so long, so I decided to make the part that showed up when I opened it into our menu. Now, now, please have a seat and eat up.”

For about solid ten seconds, Richard stared at the one-plate breakfast, his gaze looking like he was seeing a stone that he had never set his eyes on before, but then, after giving a start as if just remembering that I existed, he sat down with his same-old graceful demeanor.

“Well then, shall we?”

And so, Richard ate breakfast next to me. At times like these, this man would become extremely well-mannered, taking notice of and praising the details, such as the fineness of the omelet’s texture and the beauty of the fruit cuts in the yogurt, as if he were evaluating a five-million-yen jewelry or something. Even while being in Sri Lanka, I sometimes thought that if there were teachers like him in middle or high school around Japan, it would save many children.

“Thanks; that makes me happy. I’m benefiting from it too. Getting so many compliments for just boiling sausages.”

I didn’t know very well how to describe Richard’s face when I said that. His expression seemed like it could be the theme of a masterpiece painting, as if the exceptionally beautiful man had suddenly been reminded of an indescribable pain in the depths of his chest, but was struggling not to expose it in his facial expression. When I asked what was up, the reply was a gentle smile. His usual face was already back.

“I believe I have already said this several times, but you are extremely smart. You decipher the texts, assemble the methods in your head and put them to practice. There are more hardships in this process than you can imagine. Nevertheless, you specialize at it. This is clearly a talent of yours. Be sure to cherish it.”

“I will. But, well, I think doing my best because someone else’s gonna eat it also counts.”

For security reasons, I wasn’t allowed to invite guests to this house. I was sometimes called over to the house of a local friend I had made, and then I’d cook a simple dish there, but guests that make several meticulous dishes on the spot were probably not very welcome. So whenever there were days like these, when “guests” officially recognized by the house’s owner, Saul-san, occasionally came over, it was a great opportunity for me have a change of pace.

While thanking Richard for washing the dishes, I cleaned up the dining room and before moving on to stone study, which was my daily routine in the morning (at any rate, I had to examine stones thoroughly, guess their prices and drill the right and wrong ones into my head; pretty simple), I asked him about lunch. Richard-sensei was very busy. No time for leisure.

“You’ll be off again in the evening flight, right? What we gonna do about lunch? If you’re leaving at three o’clock, then you’ll still be in Kandy at noon, right? Can we go to a restaurant I like?”

“What a good thing it is that you found a ‘restaurant you like’ in this country. Allow me to accompany you.”

While smiling, Richard was about to let out a yawn, yet he hastily bit it down. He was like a prideful cat. As I thought, he seemed a little sleepy. When I suggested him to go to bed again, he said that he didn’t mind it, since he was going to sleep in the night flight either way. And yet he was calling me a short sleeper.

I glanced at the dining room and the kitchen. They were neatly organized. From their tidy and orderly state, I could tell with just a look that I obviously hadn’t cleaned them to this point last night. There wasn’t a single speck of dust on the floor. Despite the difference between the inside and outside of the house being so vague. There was no evidence left, but it was clear that something had happened here. Not a murder, but a more peaceful and heartwarming incident. The suspect showed no signs of confessing. So I wouldn’t say anything either. No particular comments on the multiple rags and some food remains at the bottom of the organic waste bag. I only had one thing that I wanted to say no matter what, so I hoped he’d just let me say it.

After finishing the meal, I waited for the beautiful man to stand up, and then I went behind Richard, clutching his shoulders. I was going to say it before he turned around, asking what I was doing. It was best if I didn’t see his face. There was no telling what I could say when I was staring at him in fascination.

“I myself don’t know very well what I’m talking about, so I want you to forget it in two seconds, but I was reeeally happy for this morning. Really happy. To a shocking extent.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I said I didn’t know either, right? I don’t get it, but anyway, I was happy. That’s all! Aight, study time.”

Without looking at Richard’s face until the very end, I started knocking a thousand gemstones in my workspace on the first floor. I had to look over them while it was morning. This was my current job. Richard didn’t say anything else, but his back looked calm under his shirt, so I was a bit relieved as well. Thinking back on it now, I had taken the wrong path at that time. I should have told him “not to overdo it” more clearly.

Two weeks later, Richard came back, but this time, I heard a small explosion at 6AM. Three times in a row. What did it take for things to turn out this way? The current time was already 7AM. Between getting up right now or not, which one would be less of a hassle later on? I didn’t even want to think about what had been made of the dining room. There was no one other than the two of us in this house and this wasn’t a matter that I had to go as far as asking the landlord, Saul-san, for advice on, so I knew I was the one who had to deal with it anyway. I wanted someone to decide in my stead. What should I do?

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinha de vulpian #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 3 years

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2. twisted

The cartoon that came out of the machine was pretty as a picture, perfect in almost every detail, and had a bubbly, positive personality. But she was not what Joey had wanted Susie to become. (Set in an AU where Joey gets perfect toons from his freshly killed employees and STILL isn’t happy, the unpleasable bitch…)

“Progress report to GENT home office, Client; Joey Drew Studios.

With the addition of the new ink recipe to use in the machine, we have made an unbelievable leap in progress and have almost met our client’s expectations. What had started as a machine to mold life sized figures out of ink has now done things that border on being supernatural.

Although Mr. Drew seems unimpressed, even frustrated with the results at times, in spite of the fact that the models have come out identical to their cartoon counterparts.

The process of running the cartoon film through the machine for the figures to imprint on has been successful, but it looks like that unless someone goes through the trouble of making a short that only has ONE character in it, the machine picks what character it makes at seemingly random. That is our client’s complaint; that instead of being user chosen, the machine picks out which living, breathing, thinking ink models it makes at random. Upon working on this, if I were to be in the client’s shoes, I’d have several valid complaints regarding the machine and the models it created, but our client’s complaint… Is that the machine that doesn’t have a system that allows the user to pick and choose which model it makes yet creates a physically flawless model every single time, does not allow the user to pick and choose which model it makes. He never ceases to infuriate me.

On a sour note, there was an incident with the figure in the likeness of a character called ‘The Brute’. Upon its creation, it immediately went and broke our client’s leg in a very… well, brutal fashion too. But fortunately, it has not physically attacked anyone since The Cameraman figure was made as we have threatened to separate them if it keeps up that behavior. It still likes to insult people, and it still does things that unnerve me though. We’re hoping that the rest of the figures will be less violent and or creepy.”

Thomas clicked off the recording and sighed as he looked at the newly made report, there was no way he could submit this to his boss without someone sending in someone to make sure he wasn’t huffing in ink fumes and whatever the Studio workers smoked to consider any of this to be normal.

“Hey Tommy! I think I figured out the issue with the machine! Or rather, its fuel.”

The mechanic grit his teeth and turned to face his client.

“What? I wasn’t aware that there was a problem with it.”

“Why, Tommy, how could you forget? I’m talking about the figure deposit problem of course! Why did we get The Brute when we wanted to get Boris? Why did we get Cameraman when we wanted Bendy? The answer was so simple, why, it was even staring at us the entire time!”

“Uh huh…” Thomas did not look convinced. “And what was this issue?”

“The ingredients, the Ink of course! You simply can’t put blueberry pancake batter in an oven and be surprised when you get blueberry pancakes instead of blueberry muffins, We got those two knuckleheads before we got the real stars of the show because the souls used to make them weren’t fit to make those two, but the machine still did what it does best: made living cartoons.”

Tom had an uneasy feeling in his gut as Joey grabbed his arm and led him to the Ink Machine’s room. He felt like a sheep being led to the slaughterhouse, he KNEW what went down in there! He knew the other ingredients, not well, per say, but for long enough to judge them and their characters.

He didn’t shed a single tear when Sammy was used in it, in fact, he was rather pleased with the results before it started acting out like that. He and the music director were almost always at each other’s throats for one reason or another. If you asked him, the ex-musician was strange, rude, clearly mentally unstable, and sometimes even cruel. And even if he wasn’t, his physical health had declined so much over his time at the studio that it was obvious that he would die regardless of whether or not he was put in the machine. Feeding Sammy to that machine was an act of mercy, really, and even if it wasn’t, it served him right to become a- err, The Brute and have him put the former musician in his place- put his villainous ways to a decent cause. Now if only someone could ensure for a fact that The Brute would behave...

Now the other ingredient, Norman Polk, was a different story. The man was old, weird and kinda creepy. On the surface, the man was an ideal candidate. Like Sammy, he would die anyway and nobody would miss him when he did. But on the contrary, he seemed like he still had some good years left in him. And while he was weird and creepy, he had been those things in an oddly endearing way that most of the studio had either liked or tolerated enough to not be bugged by it. The mechanic didn’t know how to explain it, that man reminded Tom of a mysterious, mostly-estranged relative that shows up out of nowhere and was always there for you even if you don’t always see him. So when the man snooped too much for his own good and had to be silenced… Tom could never look the resulting toon in the eye, or in his case, the lens.

But the mechanic couldn’t deny that it needed to be done, after all, the former projectionist was far too nosy for anyone’s sake. Nobody who knows the secret of the Ink Machine (or rather, it’s unconventional secret ingredient needed for its ink) should be free to wander the studio and spill the beans.

And a feeling in his gut was beginning to tell him that that was why he was the next on the chopping block.

He had built it, he learned what it would take to make it work, he had done what it took to make it work, and it was working now; No more models that would only move a tiny bit before collapsing into puddles! No more off model models! No more issues aside from x, y, z… -No more reasons for Joey to keep him alive when it was now too dangerous to his business…

A tiny voice at the back of his head told him it served him right. The creator of this unholy torture device would now be consumed by it, just like how the maker of the Brazen Bull was the first victim it claimed.

At this point, he was almost morbidly curious on who or what the machine would make him; would it poke fun at his past and make him that territorial junkyard guard, Canoodle? Would it ironically punish him for his greed by making him The Fat Cat of the show, Boswell Lotsobucks? Would it acknowledge that although he was a villain to the bitter end, he still tried to go clean only for demons to drag him back down his dark paths and make him into Charley? Thinking about it, any butcher gang member would be a good enough fit really.

He was a mix of relieved, disappointed, and horrified when he was brought into the room and saw the unconscious voice actress of Alice Angel strapped to a mobile operating table. Joey seemed to ignore his reaction as he proudly showed her off and began to monologue.

“Like Boris, Sammy was a musician, simple-minded, and was very loyal to those he considered friends until the bitter end. But what made Sammy more like the Brute then Boris- Aside from body type, obviously, was that Sammy had quite the short temper on him, one that got messed with often, and a tendency to hold onto a grudge that can’t be swayed away with a good meal or a bad joke… Just like our friend; the Brute.”

Tom stayed speechless as Joey continued his seemingly prepared and rehearsed speech.

“As for Bendy and Norman, well, it’s obvious that those too simply weren’t compatible in the slightest! Sure, they both have their mischievous sides, but that alone doesn’t make a man into a good imp… However, do you know who DOES have more in common with Mr. Polk? That’s right! A certain smart alec-someone who knows a thing or two about anyone, everyone, and everything whether he wants to or not. Someone with a darker, more jaded sense of humor than our little devil, someone who can lurk in the shadows, or in his case, ‘backstage’ for safety or to gather Intel, but be happy and proud to take the front stage when the need arises! ...Alright, I can see that Norman’s soul may have influenced the personality of our Cameraman, but at least he did it in ways that make sense to the character.”

The mechanic continued to stay silent as Joey continued.

“But the main point is: we know what to do to fix this little issue. If we want a main character, we need someone who embodies the soul of that character. And Ms. Campbell here said it herself; Alice is a part of her!”

“Joey…”

“Why, she’d be thanking us if she knew what was coming! This is a dream come true for her! She always seemed to be the happiest when she was singing our angel darling’s songs…”

As if he was snapped out of a trance, the mechanic pulled Joey to his face, gripping the animator’s arms tightly and shaking him up a bit.

“Joey! We can’t do this! Susie isn’t like Norman or Sammy. She’s young, healthy, and still has a lot to live for. Nobody would buy that she passed on from something out of the blue, or that she moved away without warning or telling anyone. Everyone in the studio loves her and talks to her frequently! If we do this, especially so soon, they will make the connection, and they will find out about this. It was bad enough when Norman went, imagine if someone as well loved as her went too!”

Joey just laughed and slapped Tom’s shoulder.

“Oh Tommy, all we need to tell them is that Susie got her big break and is Bringing Alice to life in ways never before seen! And to sell the illusion, also tell them ‘you know how those folks in Hollywood are with their schedules, always a bunch of busy bees.’ They’ll bite, you just have to trust me.”

“What if they don’t?” the mechanic argued. “What if they start snooping around and start to piece together what really happened to her?”

Joey’s smile wavered a bit, but remained steadfast.

“Well, we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we reach it. And when we do, we’ll have our answer!”

“Nnnnggghhh…”

Both of them shuddered when they heard the voice actress start to stir awake.

“I swore I used stronger stuff in her drink…”

“...Jo...Joey..? ..Mr. Conner..?” The voice actress’s real eye widened in horror as she looked around, and her voice wavered as she grew more and more frantic. “WHat’s going on?! Where am I- Why am I tied up?!”

“S-Susie! Everything’s perfectly fine my dear, you just need to calm down a bit and I’ll explain everything…” He subtly jabbed Thomas in the ribs with his elbow. “Tommy!” He hissed “Throw her in the machine already!”

The frightened voice actress began to struggle against her restraints while Tom hesitated. Joey shot him a glare as he strolled up behind Susie and put a ‘reassuring’ hand on the weeping angel’s shoulder.

“Joey, please… let me go… Don’t do this to me!” Tears were running down the woman’s face, her voice was soft and breaking from her stress. “Just let me go and I promise I won’t tell anyone…”

“Now, now, Susie, there’s nothing to worry about, yes I know this looks unsettling from your position… But you and Alice are going places, new, big places that most people only dream of seeing! You’re going to bring her to life in ways that will touch the hearts of generations!”

A flash of realization crossed her face.

“Joey… answer me this: when Sammy ‘died from untreated lung cancer’ did he actually die from lung cancer? And when Norman ‘died from a workplace injury’ did he really…?” her voice trailed off a bit with uncertainty before asking her third question. “Did their deaths have anything to do with those two toons that showed up?!”

Her questions were not answered by words, but with actions as the two men stuffed her into the machine. When it turned on, her screams echoed throughout the mostly empty studio, chilling all who heard them to the very bone.

When they finally stopped, the machine whirred and roared to life and Joey rubbed his hands together in glee as he watched the machine work its magic.

Thomas, on the other hand, stood in silence while staring at his hands as dread and guilt sank in his gut.

The former man’s smile fell into a look of confusion when he saw a pair of gloves with ‘X’ marks on them come out, followed by arms that connected to them. That look of confusion fell deeper into a frown when he saw the arms stretch, curl, and twist when the gloves reached the floor as if they were streams of ice cream coming out of the machine at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Alice didn’t have arms that curled and stretched, but Joey knew a certain demoness toon who did; Miss Twisted. He was cursing under his breath, of course it would complete their little trio before giving him what he wanted! Now he wasted his one shot at getting Alice!

The rest of the toon didn’t even get out of the damn machine, it was like she was taunting him by continuing to stretch her arms and let them continue to coil in piles on the floor instead of showing him the finished product.

Furious, he marched over and grabbed the toon demoness’s arms and yanked her out of the damn machine.

“Stop messing around!” He scolded before pausing and reapplying his signature smile. “Your friends Brute and Cameraman have been worried sick about you ever since their creation! You wouldn’t want to keep them waiting for you any longer than they’ve already been, right?”

He could’ve been imagining it, but he swore that she had a look of pure terror on her face before she put on a fake smile of her own. And was it just him, or was this Miss Twisted’s left eye slightly discolored, glassy looking, if that made sense for someone with pitch black pie-cut eyes. The grayer eye she had reminded him of Susie Campbell’s fake eye.

“Y-yeah! You’re right!” She pushed Joey out of her face, clearly uncomfortable by his staring but pretending to be perfectly fine. “I can’t keep my boys waiting for too long, who knows what they’ll do?” She chuckled nervously. “So… where are you keeping them? where are they hiding?”

“Tommy here will be happy to show you, just follow him and-”

“Thanks!”

The demoness chipperly chirped and swiftly yanked Thomas out of the room at a speed that almost insulted the man.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #Thomas Conner #joey drew #susie campbell #miss twisted #fanfic #ink demonth #murder warning

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malecdiscordserver · 4 years

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We’ve officially come to the end of the Malec Discord Mini Bang 2020 presented by the Malec Discord Server. We had a fantastic turnout with 35 writers, 21 artists, and 22 betas making it across the finish line. I hope you’ll join us in giving everyone a huge round of congratulations for this fantastic content.

Take a look at the AO3 collection here!

Without further ado, here is a masterpost of all submitted pieces for this event. Please be sure to give all of these fantastic creators the credit they deserve for these amazing stories and incredible pieces of art.

The Games We Play by @accal1a

Rating: Explicit Summary: Alec and Aed play a diabolical game, Magnus and Francesca look on, teasing their partners all the while.

When Life Doesn't Give You Lemons by @jesssssah

Rating: Mature Summary: Magnus and Alec are contestants on Masterchef. Without a recipe, they must each make a dessert by celebrity chef Jace Wayland or risk elimination from the competition. Magnus' talent is for desserts but Alec is inexperienced at those. So to save him from going home Magnus must give him some lessons in baking.

The Angel's Treasure by @notquiteascrazy

Rating: Mature Summary: When a change of life circumstance gives Magnus the means to go in search of adventure, there is only one person he can think of who should accompany him: his college friend, Alexander Lightwood. After all, what could possibly go wrong with taking the man you've always had a secret crush on to explore a tropical island on the hunt for long-lost treasure? Link to completed fic

You Are The Music in Me @brightasstars

Rating: Explicit Summary: Alec wakes up one morning, in a hospital’s bed, alone and far away from home, only to discover that he has lost his lower leg and all that he had, is now gone forever. With his new life, comes new relationships and encounters, and Alec finds himself working on his dream with Magnus, a famous cello player, who shares with him more past than he could imagine. Heart grows fonder as they get to know each other but it terrifies Alec to reveal everything to Magnus, scared that it would be too much, for he isn’t ready to lose everything all over again.When truth is forced out of him, even his own skin doesn’t feel safe enough. Luke’s question echoes through his mind, is he ready to let someone see him? let someone love him? A story of losing and winning and everything in between. Link to completed fic

hollow crown by taurussieben

Rating: Teen Summary: He nodded at himself in the mirror, took the keys from the bowl on the sideboard in the hallway, checked for his pockets for his card and phone, and stepped out. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

“I think we should take a break.”

A story about how we shape our own world and that sometimes, that shape is much more different then we thought it is.

of track meets and heartbeats by fallenhurricane

Rating: General Summary: Alec takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders, bouncing from foot to foot. He adjusts his grip on the pole one last time before starting his run.

His run feels good and right; his knees are pulling up high and the pole is steady, if a bit lighter than normal, in his hands. As he approaches the crossbar, he straightens and speeds up a bit, extending his arms above him. The bottom of the pole settles into the plant box and Alec swings himself forward and up, just as he’s done hundreds of times before.

But.

While Alec has plans to clear this jump and advance to set his personal record, the pole that Camille loaned him has a different idea.

OR: The high school track team injury AU nobody asked for.

Please, Don't Turn Back by hmweasley

Rating: Teen Summary: Once they're 18, both demons and angels must visit Earth with their own personal missions before they come of age. For angels, this means saving souls. For demons, it usually means little more than corrupting a human or two, but Magnus isn't a run-of-the-mill demon. He's the son of a Prince of Hell, and his mission must reflect that. What Asmodeus gives him is a mission that's rather straightforward on paper: kill Alexander Lightwood, the son of high-ranking angels.

There's just one thing the plan doesn't account for: how Alexander makes Magnus feel.

Dormancy by Hermit

Rating: Teen Summary: Love used to be a weed that threatened to choke him. Now, it will never again be in the cards for him. Magnus absolutely, and with all the certainty of centuries, knows this. Until Alec Lightwood unknowingly waters his heart. It decides to grow. This is undeniably a problem, but both Alec and Magnus have to choose if it can bloom.

catch me when i fall by @mirrorofliterature

Rating: Teen Summary: When Magnus Bane walks into Alec Lightwood's office on one frosty fall night, fresh from a conference about a particular world-destroying lie-detector, the Damocles sword doesn't drop onto their heads.

Or: Robert Lightwood doesn’t tell Alec about the Soul Sword, and things change. Magnus and Alec stay together. Yet -

How much more does he have to lose - how much more does he have to suffer - before he’s finally left alone?

In the perpetual, lonely silence filling his home, Magnus Bane falls to his knees, and cries.

Meet Me On The Ice by @aceon-ice

Rating: Teen Summary: Magnus is at the top of men's figure skating, with a solid winning streak, but he's no longer interested in the sport- until he meets Alec Lightwood.

Alec is a pairs skater struggling with competition anxiety whose life takes a turn for the better when he's approached by Magnus Bane.

AKA the figure skating AU nobody asked for but I wanted to write.

Artwork for Meet Me On The Ice by @koryandr

the way to a chef's heart by @lecrit

Rating: Mature Summary: After a scorching review on his restaurant in one of the world's most famous food magazine, world class chef Magnus Bane is set on finding the food critic who dared to slander his art and make him change his mind. He doesn't expect someone as stubborn or infuriating as Alec Lightwood.

Artwork for the way to a chef’s heart by @whatanexcitingfewdaysithasbeen

I loved your colours (before I loved you) by @hopesilverheart

Rating: Explicit (Chapter 10 only) Summary: Magnus Bane is a journalist who's always dreamed of modelling for Lightwood Fashions. When the CEO Alec Lightwood starts looking for new models for their spring collection, he jumps on the occasion.

In the meantime, Alec Lightwood is struggling with the idea of finally announcing his role as co-designer. When Magnus Bane strolls into his life, Alec is torn between keeping his secret or throwing all caution to the wind. Link to completed fic

Artwork for I loved your colours (before I loved you) by @calliartss

Bleeding Heart by sivan325

Rating: Explicit Summary: “Are you sure? Maybe there is some other alpha out there for you?” Jace asked.

“What other alpha?” Alec asked as he stared at the beta, and added, “I don’t have a choice in that anymore, I’m without an Alpha, I’m more like pack less, someone that does not belong anywhere.” Link to completed fic

Artwork for Bleeding Heart by @miss-shiva-adler

They Call Me a Thief by @lightwormsiblings

Rating: Teen Summary: The Lightwoods are relatively new to the criminal scene but are quickly making a name for themselves. What happens when they run into world renowned con-artist Magnus Bane and his team when on a job after which Alec realizes he and Magnus might be after the same thing.

or a Shadowhunters Leverage AU

Artwork for They Call Me a Thief by @killiarious

Love, but Make it Fashion by theweird1

Rating: Explicit (Chapter 9) Summary: Alec couldn't stand corporate life anymore. Now he needs a job and Izzy is the girl to help. Unfortunately, it is to be a PA to the most overbearing and annoyingly handsome fashion designer to ever grace the pages of Vogue. A man with a heart of ice, but even ice can be thawed with enough care. Ghosts from the past will surface just when it looks like love is in the air. Suddenly Alec finds himself in the most awkward position of pretending to be his boss’ new fiancé. Magnus and Alec will have to decide if their fake engagement can become a reality before they are completely torn apart. Link to Chapters 1-5 Link to Chapters 6-Epilogue

Artwork for Love, but Make it Fashion by Kuro

To Shine A Light by Nadja_Lee

Rating: Mature Summary: Alexander Lightwood is a very old and powerful Warlock, who has risen to become a leader for the Downworld. When one of his people, the Warlock Andrew Underhill, is accused of breaking the Accords and faces sentencing Alec shows up at the New York Institute to set the record straight. Camille, leader of the NYI, has plans for the powerful Warlock, plans she is eager to see carried out. She has Idris’ best soldier, Magnus Bane, assist with the interrogation of Alec, unaware what she is setting in motion by doing so as Alec and Magnus are instantly drawn to each other. Soon Magnus will have to choose between helping Alec and his oath to Idris. Will Magnus dare to risk it all for the possibility the powerful Warlock will take a chance and open his heart to him? Link to completed fic

A Bit of Space by @facialteeth

Rating: Mature Summary: Alec and Magnus are the sole survivors after their spaceship crashes on an uninhabited planet. They have no way to contact anyone to let them know they’re still alive but somehow, they make it work. In the end, all they really need is each other. Link to completed fic

Artwork for A Bit of Space by @accal1a

A Prince of Gold and Glass by @harkasun

Rating: General Summary: When Magnus sends himself to Edom in order to protect Alicante and the world, Alec must come to terms with the possibility that the man he intended to marry has sacrificed much more than his freedom. Meanwhile, in the demonic realm, The Queen of Edom finds a warlock, the half-breed son of a Prince of Hell whose corruption can ensure that the throne of Edom is once again claimed by a creature of demonic royalty: one who will become her Prince of Edom. Link to completed fic

Artwork for A Prince of Gold and Glass by DarayFlair

Cradling the Sun by @cuubism

Rating: Mature Summary: Alec’s known for a long time that Magnus is a hard person to hold. He’s so much—so much power, so much energy, so much brilliance, so much love. He shines so bright he’s hard to even look at directly, never mind try to hold in one set of hands. Now that Magnus himself is losing his grip on all of that, well. Alec will just have to hold him a little bit tighter. Link to completed fic

Artwork for Cradling the Sun by @faejilly Also found on YouTube and Spotify

A piece of night sky by myulalie

Rating: Teen Summary: There are rumors that Valentine is back. And he's searching for something. When his dealings with dark magic cause swarms of demons to crawl New York, the city is not safe at night, especially for downworlders.

Alec is doing his best to keep the city safe. With no support from the Clave, the New York Institute is desperately understaffed. He begins patrolling with help from the Downworld factions - which proves to be tricky at best, and becomes almost impossible when the werewolves start hunting Alec.

His siblings have no idea of what he’s up to at night and to keep them all safe Alec needs to keep it that way.

Then, he meets the High Warlock of Brooklyn. Suddenly, patrolling also includes pop songs and bird puns in between watching someone's back when fighting demons.

But, what’s one more secret to keep? Link to completed fic

Artwork for A piece of the night sky by @jesssssah

Dona Nobis Pacem by lawsofchaos

Rating: Teen Summary: “When Alec kneels before you on that dais, Magnus,” Jace keeps going, “he’s telling every person present that it is your judgement, your respect, that he places before all others. In you placing that rune on his neck, Alec is publicly proclaiming that it’s your blessing and your judgement on him and on his reign as Head that gives him the right and the authority to uphold the Covenant.” Link to completed fic

Artwork #1 for Dona Nobis Pacem created by @cloudburst-ink Artwork #2 for Dona Nobis Pacem created by @cloudburst-ink

isn’t it just so pretty to think (an invisible string) by @iambeingcoy

Rating: General Summary: alec had jumped at the chance to work in paris when the offer presented itself to him. it was a chance to run away from new york for a year under the guise of a good career opportunity. there, he meets magnus. while falling in love with the other man, alec finds himself falling in love with the city too. when the year begins to come to a close, alec doesn't realize that what you're running away from can always catch up to you and, just maybe, he isn't the only one who has been running.

it's easy to fall in love in paris.

Artwork for isn’t it just so pretty to think (an invisibly string) by @spark-draws

Copper, Gold, Silver, and Glitter by YourAverageNerd

Rating: Teen Summary: "Oh. Yeah. You know how you invited Magnus Bane to Jace and Clary's wedding as a joke?" Alec shrugged. "He actually showed up. We went out for lunch yesterday."

Silence. It was silent. The kind that Alec craved and usually could never find and wow, he should drop bombs like this more often because he really liked it.

Then Jace ruined it by nearly screaming, "I'm sorry, what!"

(In which there's a wedding, some celebrities may be nicer than they appear, and Alec is trying to keep himself from turning into smoke.)

Blame It on the Fairy Dust by slyvir

Rating: Mature Summary: Pandemonium is Magnus's territory, the lack of Alec's presence by his side despite the latter's apparent open stance on downworlders is slowly brewing into political issues. That clubs are not Alec's scene it is not a surprise, the reasons why he tried to avoid nights at Pandemonium however blindside Magnus, especially when they came out in the open in a fashion that is uniquely normal for them.

Both Alec and Magnus are ready to give away a piece of themselves for the other. Suffering in silence, with the intent to protect their partner from pain or guilt. But the way to Hell is paved with good intentions. And the more one let someone else in, the more one can get hurt. No one has any doubt that Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood are deeply in love, they show it all the time, even when no one’s looking. So it should not come as a surprise that they end up being each other’s reason to hurt so much. Link to completed fic

Artwork for Blame It on the Fairy Dust by @a-ghost-named-k

In Every Universe, We Find Each Other by EternallySilverMagnusandAlec

Rating: Teen Summary: Tensions have been rising between the Clave and the Downworld to the brink of near revolution in the wake of Valentine's return. Magnus is asked to lead in these trying times, pushed to fight at the forefront of his people and the downworld as he has for centuries. Despite this, Magnus and Alec still meet and dance around with whatever is growing between them, time stretching into months of stolen interactions despite the swelling conflict, and fall in love. And Alec Lightwood still makes the decision to choose Magnus Bane. Or: A collection of moments in a time of growing tension Magnus and Alec share, and the product of their final choices

Artwork for In Every Universe, We Find Each Other by @greentealycheejelly

Codename: Bane by @bidnezz

Rating: Mature Summary: Magnus Bane meets Alec Lightwood by pure coincidence on two occasions: one morning in a quaint coffee shop, and again during a mission briefing for The Clave. It’s only supposed to be one mission, but leaked information and the kidnapping of his friend and mentor Ragnor Fell lead to undesirable predicaments, and hard as he tries to keep it professional, Magnus can’t help his growing affection for the spy he’s hired to watch and navigate through the murky treachery of espionage.

Artwork for Codename: Bane by @myulalie

A Wonderful Institution by @rhosyn-du

Rating: Teen Summary: Magnus doesn’t have time for this bullshit. Warlocks are disappearing in New York City—five people in less than three months—and Magnus is determined to find them and protect the rest of his people from whatever took them. He doesn’t have time for politics, and he certainly doesn’t have time for whatever nonsense the Clave is proposing about marrying a Shadowhunter to a Downworlder as part of the new Accords. He doesn’t really have time for a pretty Shadowhunter who’s surprisingly kind to warlock children, either, but, well, he’s always been good at multitasking.

Alec always knew he couldn’t have what he wanted, but he’s spent the nearly four years since the newly-appointed Consul recalled his parents to Idris without explanation making the best of what he can have. When life suddenly offers up almost everything Alec actually wants on a silver platter, he can’t quite bring himself to trust it, especially when it comes with a million caveats and a side of impending disaster. But he knows how to handle disasters, even if the return of the Circle on top of Clave secrets that could destroy the Accords is way beyond the disasters he’s used to fielding. Hope, on the other hand? He doesn’t know what to do with that. Link to completed fic

Artwork for A Wonderful Institution by @bidnezz

Coming to America by PisangGoreng

Rating: Mature Summary: His Royal Highness Asmodeus Magnus III is the crown prince and sole heir to the throne of Edom. He has never left the island and is pretty desillusioned with the royal treatment. The law says he needs to wed before he turns 30, so on his 29th birthday his father arranges a marriage for him. But when his fiancée turns out to be an awful familiar face, Magnus takes matters into his own hand.

He bargains with his father, who gives him 3 months to do whatever he wants. So Magnus comes up with a plan: he's going to live life as a normal guy and find a partner all by himself in New York.

Not wasting any time he starts looking for love, with little success. Until he encounters the most handsome, intelligent and charming man he has ever seen! Without realizing it himself Alexander Lightwood sweeps Magnus off his feet, and along the way Magnus finds that he's in deep and has no plan, his dream guy is already in a relationship and every day he is closer to his return to Edom.

And even if he manages to get Alec's attention, will there ever be a good time to tell him he's been a prince all along?

An adaptation of the 1988 romantic comedy Coming to America (but probably a lot less funny). Link to completed fic

Artwork for Coming to America by amillustration_

until death do us part by ColorfulWarlock

Rating: Explicit Summary: In the past, a still traumatized six-year old Magnus thought he would have to endure the darkness of Edom alone. Until another child – a boy with dark hair, pale skin and bright hazel eyes – found him and lighted up his heart.

In the present, the High Warlock of Brooklyn Magnus Bane works with the Shadowhunters and other Downworlders to bring Valentine down. What he doesn’t expect is that Valentine controls a very powerful being, and how to fight someone to whom you give your heart centuries ago?

Artwork for until death do us part by @eternallysilvermagnusandalec

Keris by AlterEgon

Rating: Mature Summary: A recent death shakes Magnus Bane with some eerie parallels to his own past. As the supposed suicide turns to probable murder, he begins questioning the circumstances surrounding his own mother's death. When proximity to the dagger that took his mother's life brings him visions of details long forgotten that do not fit into the narrative he had taken as truth regarding her last days or weeks, he, Alec, and their friends and family begin to investigate, uncovering unexpected connections and a killer who has been on the loose for far too long

It's What You Do With Life That Matters by @skylar102

Rating: Teen Summary: Alec has come to the Sinnoh region in search of a rare pokemon. Along the way, he meets a trainer who is more than willing to help him out. Is there more to the stranger's generosity? Will Alec be able to capture the pokemon he's been long searching for? What secret is Alec hiding?

On this journey, Alec is going to make new friends, finish a long overdue promise, and finally confront a piece of his past.

Aligned by @jaackkitty

Rating: Teen Warning: Non-con in a chapter (not descriptive or explicit) Summary: In six months, Prince Alec Lightwood is set to become King of Idris. He’s been waiting to take the throne since his parents' unexpected death at sea eight years ago. Since then, Valentine Morgenstern has been serving as king. Needless to say, Valentine’s rules & regulations only serve Valentine and his trusted followers, with no regard for the well-being of the people of Idris, least of all the magic users. Afraid of them, he created a law to bind their magic to another. By circumstance, Alec finds himself aligned with magic user, Magnus Bane. Link to chapters 1-9 Link to chapters 10-16

Artwork for Aligned by @greentealycheejelly

My Fearless Love, I Will Not Say Goodbye by @arialerendeair

Rating: Explicit Summary: When their first time together results in an accidental mating bond, Alec and Magnus have to decide how they want to proceed. Especially since they were both sure that the other didn't want a full mating...right?

Also known as: Alpha Alec, Omega Magnus, and a fuckton of pining. Link to completed fic

Artwork for My Fearless Love, I Will Not Say Goodbye by @skylar102

Sixteenth Sunset by Nhixxie

Rating: Mature Summary: NASA astronauts Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood spend one year living and working together in the International Space Station. They fall in love one astounding view of Earth at a time.

Artwork for Sixteenth Sunset by @miss-shiva-adler

Untitled experiment by @imandras

Rating: General Summary: But it happened at the time that in one of Alec's lectures the proposal to conduct an experiment was presented so convincingly, that Alec and his guitar were allowed to (or rather had to) spend some time (with considerably less wages) in the subway.

And as fate would have it (she was in a good mood this morning) Magnus went to work earlier than usual, because he wanted to start the day pleasantly with his dear friend Cat and an extensive breakfast together.

Remember, it's all Simon's fault!

Artwork for Untitled experiment by @a-ghost-named-k

#malec #shadowhunters #malec discord mini bang 2020 #magnus bane #alec lightwood #magnus x alec #alec x magnus #mini bang #big bang #malec big bang #masterlist #writing #writing challenge #fanfiction #fanfic

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swagpeachperfection · 3 years

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Here is my in-depth The Smoothie Diet review. I hope most of the people reading this can relate me along with me! From my childhood itself, I was a bit chubby, but that I found cute and never cared off. After that, I joined my college and my lifestyle changed drastically. Staying awake late nights, eating unhealthy junk foods.

Late-night study during the examinations, all these habits led me to put on weights. More weight. But I hardly cared. After my graduation, like most people, I too have desk work. After our office, we hardly get any time or energy left with going to any fitness regime.

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About The Smoothie Diet Program

This is a type of food habit which really works for people who want to start their weight loss journey in a healthy manner. It works mainly for the people who are occupied in a busy schedule and face problems in preparing everyday meals. In The Smoothie Diet diet plan, you replace two of your main meals, preferably breakfast and lunch with smoothies.

The third meal you can have solid food, but keep in mind to have a lower calorie food. Scouts also allow a “cheat meal” every week, but only a few recommended ones, mentioned in The Smoothie Diet e-book. The Smoothie Diet is a 21-day cycle, power-packed with nutrition and vitamins and you can follow anytime you want to shed some pounds.

The ingredients of the smoothies may vary, mainly depending on fruits, vegetables, protein, and few healthy fats. Follow the recipes in the e-book to prepare your solid meal food. The meal should not be high in calories or else it not come up with the desired results. The Smoothie Diet guide also helps you with some high-fiber snacks and low sugar options.

The Smoothie Diet review contains two plans. The first one — “The Detox plan”, where you replace all your three main meals with healthy smoothies which keep you feel fullness all day long.

Another plan includes the 21-day plan where you replace two meals with a smoothie and have one solid food with a few snacking.

You can also modify sometimes, following a “flex day”- where you have a smoothie followed by two meals. But The Smoothie Diet pdf is not recommended for people having food allergies. So consult a doctor or get a regular checkup before starting a Smoothie diet for weight loss.

The Smoothie Diet Manufacturer

The Smoothie Diet Pdf was created by Drew Sgoutas, a certified Nutrition Expert and Health Coach. He believes in home cooking with all the real ingredients. He is the one who throws his heart and soul into success. And that what led to this revolutionary diet The Smoothie Diet program.

Pros and Cons of The Smoothie Diet Ebook

Pros

The Smoothie Diet involves having smoothies, which are mainly from fruits and veggies. They are usually low in calories and provide you with the daily phytonutrients, being a part of your healthy diet.

l Less counting on calories

As per The Smoothie Diet review, Most of the famous diets and weight loss programs count on calories. But as we are aware that fruits and veggies are lower in calories, you don’t need to get involved in counting the calories all day long. The recipes provided in the Smoothie Diet for weight loss program don’t involve much decision-making process which is an added advantage for all working people.

l Go easy with the shopping

This three-week diet plan covers the shopping list every week at the starting itself. The diet plan contains a broken-down shopping list helping you in your shopping. This makes your grocery store visit much easier during this 21-day smoothie diet plan. Apart from the above-mentioned pros, there are various studies showing the effectiveness and sustainability of the diet plan.

Cons

l Maintaining the micro-nutrients

Most of the smoothies have their calories from carbohydrates, and very little protein and fats. It is recommended to have a protein intake of at least 50 grams daily to maintain a healthy lifestyle. So the Smoothie Diet recommends getting the daily need from the snacks. Go through The Smoothie Diet review thoroughly before following the plan, or you may fall out. If you are replacing your meals with these smoothies make sure to get your fats and proteins. Try to add some chia seeds and flax seeds. They help to thicken up your smoothies as well as provide you with essential micronutrients. Get a good source of lean protein, those help you to build muscle, helping you to maintain a higher metabolism. Having various nuts and seeds in the snack may do the trick.

l High Sugar Content

This 21-day Smoothie diet contains a lot of fruits. Fruits are known to the natural source of sugars. There are many smoothies that call for the addition of honey and another sugar substitute, which only adds calories to them. So all these are not recommended to people having medical problems. A peanut butter smoothie is a healthy option as it’s protein-rich with no added sugars. Some of the smoothies are too thick to drink, so most people add juices to thin them down. But avoid doing so, rather add water to make it dilute or ice can be an alternative to thicken them up. Get the right amount of thickness without adding more calories by switching to alternatives.

l Time- taking

If you are staying at home, then making two smoothies can be a bit less pain in the ass, still cleaning up the bender each time you have one. And as a working professional. Having a smoothie in your breakfast is pretty easy, but what about lunch? You cannot have all the necessary ingredients when you are away from home. Right?

l Fails in the long run

When you start the Smoothie Diet, your body goes through a drastic change in cutting down the calories. As vegetables and fruits are lower in calories and also devoid of the essential proteins and healthy fats. Replacing solid meals with liquids may help you at the beginning and you may see noticeable results, but when you start getting into your previous daily diets, you tend to get weight again. So The Smoothie Diet e-book and The Smoothie Diet review suggest following the diet frequently, which is not always a healthy option.

Why The Smoothie Diet book is Useful, Is it a Scam?

Not only for weight loss. Your body sometimes requires detoxification. This 21-day smoothie diet plan will help you to follow a detox plan, removing all the impurities from your body. You feel light and energetic restoring all the lost minerals and vitamins.

It does no harm to your body. They are lesser in calories. Ramp them up with protein and healthy fats making them tasty as well as to get the added benefits from it.

The Smoothie Diet User reviews 2021

While surfing the internet, you will get a number of The Smoothie Diet customer reviews who received benefits following the diet. Not this, The Smoothie Diet ebook provides you with various case studies of the people following the diet plan and getting unexpected results.

==> Download The Smoothie Diet Program

The Smoothie Diet Reviews — Final Verdict

The Smoothie Diet ebook provides you with numerous recipes, but to see results you need to maintain the proportions. Make your habit to have a healthy smoothie once a day in the long run. Try to tally the calorie count and know how much you need to consume in every meal, The Smoothie Diet will save you from all the common weight loss mistakes.

Use strawberries, blueberries, and apples in your smoothies. They are rich in antioxidants. Try to have smoothies as well, including spinach and kale. They are rich in minerals, vitamins, and potassium as well. To make your smoothie thick try using ice. If you are a peanut butter lover, go for the powdered one, avoid the creamy spread. And for natural sweeteners add mangoes or bananas, The Smoothie Diet will keep you away from the extra fats and artificial sugar.

Last not, whether you want to lose weight, or just want to follow a healthy lifestyle. Download now, The Smoothie Diet pdf and ebook, and head toward the kitchen. The Smoothie Diet is not a scam, try it today and share your The Smoothie Diet review along with us! Happy dieting!

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)

What is The Smoothie Diet?

It was a 21-day smoothie diet is an e-book prepared by Drew Sgoutas which contains a schedule and recipes for three weeks instructing what smoothies to be taken for each day.

Does The Smoothie Diet program good for weight loss?

This diet will help you shed approximately 2 or 3 pounds per week. You should expect to get rid of up to 50–70 pounds if you repeat this diet plan several times.

Are there any side effects by using The Smoothie Diet program?

No need to worry about any kind of side effects from the smoothie diet. Because there are no recorded side effects of the 21-day smoothie diet as it is prepared at home and is completely natural.

Why The Smoothie Diet is useful?

This program is not only for weight loss, but it will also help you to follow a detox plan, removing all the impurities from your body. You feel light and energetic restoring all the lost minerals and vitamins.

Who was the creator of The Smoothie Diet program?

The smoothie diet was created by Drew Sgoutas, a certified Nutrition Expert and Health Coach.

==> Download The Smoothie Diet Program

#weightloss #weight log #weight loss plan for women gym #weight loss plan for 1 month #weight loss plan #weight loss plan for men #weight loss plan for women

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midnightprelude · 3 years

Text

@oftachancer and I put together another piece for @14daysdalovers!

Pairing: Cassandra x F!Lavellan Rating: T Summary: Of course her first meeting with Cassandra's family would involve Lyanna Lavellan, three months pregnant, scaling the face of a wall. It was only natural.Not that she wasn't up for the challenge, but she had hoped not to meet Anthony Pentaghast while she was red-faced and sweating. Oh well. Read here on on AO3!

“I already like you better than the last four,” Anthony grinned, managing the ropes of Cassandra’s safety harness as she climbed higher. “I doubt any of them would have made it past the first incline, even before… How many months along are you now?”

“Three,” she sniffed. Did she look that large already? Creators, she felt like it. “I’m tenacious.” Her muscles burned and her shin smarted where she’d smashed against a foothold, but she had made it to the top of the ledge where Cassandra’s brother was beaming. As gorgeous as his sister, sculpted muscle from head to toe, his tee shirt clinging to his chest like- She dropped her gaze to where Cassandra was scaling, smiling down at her when she chanced to look up. “I’m glad, for your sake, you didn’t try to tell me I couldn’t.”

He was quicker to laugh than his sister, tiny lines about his eyes showing that he did so often. “I’d have missed all the swearing. What a shame that would have been.”

“Would you, now?” Lyanna smirked, adjusting her harness now that she was again on solid ground. She caught her hand traveling reflexively towards her belly and stretched it over her head. “I’m sure you would’ve heard a few curses if you attempted to stop me.”

“I know better. I couldn’t prevent Cassie from standing in her saddle. I can’t stop any woman from doing anything.”

“She’s taught you well, then.” Lyanna rolled her eyes on a chuckle. “Cassie, hm?”

“Yes.” Anthony checked the lines. “To both.” He glanced at her with a wry smile. “I’ll admit, when she told me she was seeing a ‘Lyanna’, I had a different image in my mind. Claw-nails and leopard print and high heels.”

“Not a pregnant elf?” Lyanna quirked a brow. “What about my name makes you think of claws and heels, do tell?”

“I guess I was thinking of most of the other power suits in our firm. Lots of claws and heels.” He grinned. “She said you were a red head and it got me thinking of- Well. Anyway. You seem a decent sort.”

“Got a thing for redheads, is it? I’ll have to let Cassie know.”

“Trust me, she knows,” he chuckled. “We mostly only had each other for a long time; it’s possible we know too much about each other. Do you have siblings?”

“No, but I’ve got quite a few cousins, and one in particular who knows much more than he probably should. He’s in a band. Catharsis? They’ve been in the news lately.”

“Yes! The instigators .” Anthony grinned. “I do love when flames are fanned. Powerful people do such ridiculous things to try and put them out, and leave themselves open to all sorts of interesting case law.”

“She said you’d say something like that,” Lyanna smirked, taking a swig from a bottle of water. Creators, she was going to be sore. “That you like hunting dragons. Would you take on the Imperium, if you had a case?”

“If I thought one could be won, certainly. So far, they’ve been cagey, but I see their sweat beginning to make the pavement slippery. It’s only a matter of time.” Anthony smiled lazily, flashing white teeth in a sharp smile. “But that’s business and I promised my little sister that I would take the afternoon off.”

“And she’s getting closer and closer to earshot, so we’d best watch ourselves.” Lyanna chuckled, leaning against the fake wall of rock behind them that extended nearly up to the ceiling. “Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Maker, no!” Anthony winked at her. “She might cut me off from the borscht. Had she made you her borscht? It’s exactly as mother used to make it. I’ve no idea how she manages. We have the exact same recipe.”

“She has.” A few times, in fact. “Folate is good for the babies, she says. Makes the kitchen look a bit like a murder scene with all the beets, but there’s hardly any denying her when she puts her mind to something. She made four gallons, once, and sent a good portion home with me. Cassandra is under the impression I don’t eat nearly enough.”

“She likes to take care of people. It’s easier to let her.” He smiled fondly down the rock face where his sister was dangling from her fingertips, searching for a toehold. “It sounds as though you’ve figured that out.”

“Took some time.” Heat rose to Lyanna’s cheeks. She hadn’t wanted to be cared for; she’d been alone and independent for so long that she hardly knew how to accept Cassandra’s offerings without distrust and scorn. Nobody was that selfless. Except, amazingly, Cassandra Pentaghast. “But I did. Yes. She does have that quality.”

“She never knew our parents, you know,” he said thoughtfully. “Not really. But she’s far more like them than she has a right to be. She’s a good kid.” He glanced at her, lifting a brow, seeing too much. “You get that, too. I like you.”

“Do I get a badge?” Lyanna tilted her head to the side. “Or a stamp? ‘Free to date Cassandra Pentaghast.’ I’ll stick it to my laptop so there’s no confusion.”

“Unfortunately not. Just my appreciation that you seem to see her as she is.” He shrugged. “Should I dislike you on principle?”

“I was under the impression that elder brothers tend to be very protective of their younger sisters’ hearts.” Lyanna sniffed, smiling slightly. She had been a trifle worried about his acceptance and had told Cassandra as much, but she’d waved it off. ‘Anthony is Anthony; he only cares that I’m happy. I very much am.’ “I’m relieved you think so. Did she tell you she carried me out of a construction site? I was more annoyed that I couldn’t walk on my own than grateful at first; I was certain she wanted something from me.”

Anthony chuckled. “She didn’t, but that sounds like her; I’ll have to pry the tale from her now.” He looked over the ledge. “Almost there!” he called encouragingly and received a disgruntled huff in reply. “Unless you want to tell me,” he glanced at Lyanna with a quick grin. “It’ll probably be a better story coming from you.”

“Oh, I’d rather not recount that particular tale.” Heat flooded Lyanna’s cheeks. An embarrassing tumble into a construction site she’d been protesting, followed by a broken ankle and a positive pregnancy test from a fling. “I’m sure she’d do it justice.” Cassandra was nearly at the top of the climb, thank the Creators; hopefully she’d arrive before Lyanna was dragged into a retelling.

Anthony quirked a brow at her, smiling lazily. “As you will.”

Cassandra puffed her cheeks, dragging herself up the last inches and pulling herself to sprawl on the mid-point landing at their feet. She reached for Lyanna’s fingers, brushing them with her own, dusting chalk between them.

Lyanna laughed, helping her up and wrapping her arms around Cassandra’s waist. “For a moment there, you looked like you very much wanted to toss us off the ledge! Congratulations.” She kissed Cassandra’s cheek, smiling against her skin. “I missed you.”

Spectacular: the feel of her cheek curving in an answering grin and the ragged exhales of her breath against Lyanna’s ear. “You’re beautiful.”

“I love you,” the words sprung to her lips, but this time they didn’t make her twinge with anxiety at the sound of them in her voice as they had before. A simple truth, simply spoken, the statement muffled nearly completely when Cassandra tugged her closer and kissed her in earnest until they were both panting again.

#cassandra x f!inquisitor #cassandra pentaghast #lyanna lavellan #14DALovers #midnight writes #oftachancer writes #cassandra x lyanna #nuit de reves

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matrixaffiliate · 4 years

Text

Endeavor

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

I hope you have a fabulous week because you're a wonderful person! Our next update will be on Friday, October 2nd!

Chapter 12

"Have you been reading my detailed comments?" Ted asked as his thumb drew patterns on the back of Vic's hand. He'd read straight through her novel two weeks ago, then went back and had been spending the last week adding comments to her document.

Vic rolled her eyes as they walked up the drive to the Potter's home and tried to calm the nervous feeling that was trying to overpower her. Nervous because knowing she and Ted had been invited as a couple seemed to put a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

"Ted, you're leaving comments on every paragraph. How do you expect me to read that many comments? It's a hundred-thousand-word document! Especially with starting my new editing job on Monday?"

"You're an author, doesn't that mean you love to read every critique of the work you create?" He teased.

Vic shoved his shoulder with hers but smiled.

"You're ridiculous, you know?"

"Yes, but you're the one holding my hand, so where does that leave you?"

"Nervous about being here tonight as your girlfriend rather than only their niece," she admitted quietly.

"Hey," Ted stopped them and pulled her into him, "Harry and Ginny love you and there is no way they aren't happy for us, so please try to trust that they aren't out to get you."

Vic nodded but she couldn't shake the feeling that everyone was out to make Ted see what a bad choice he made in giving her a chance.

Ted rapped his knuckles against the old door and they were both swept into a warm hug once Ginny opened.

"Vicky! Teddy! Come in, come in!"

"Thanks, Ginny," Ted grinned as he kicked off his shoes. "You should know that Mum and Dad are going to be supremely jealous when I tell them I brought Vic here before I brought her home to meet them."

Ginny shook her head at his teasing. "Teddy, dear, Victoire is my niece. I knew her for two decades before you did."

"But you also knew me for the same time before Vic knew me, so I'd say it cancels that out." Ted grinned.

Ginny looked heavenward and laughed. "Why do the Marauders have to leave their mark on every male in this family?" She turned to Vic. "Would you believe that even my sweet Al was trying to be a smart mouth the other day?"

Vic laughed, feeling the nervous pit in her stomach start to ease just a bit.

"Al? Really?"

"Al's better at it than the rest of us." Ted walked with them into the kitchen. "He's more like my dad, and Dad always manages to get the best of the other three brothers."

"Heaven help me, then," Ginny chuckled.

"Why ask for heaven's help when I'm right here?" Harry winked at her as she moved to help him with dinner.

"You're a legacy of the problem, love." Ginny leant over and kissed his cheek.

"Ginny is bemoaning the way the Marauders are rubbing off on Al." Teddy sat down at the table and pulled Vic down with him.

"Bemoaning?" Ginny's eyebrows shot up and she turned to glare at Ted.

Vic covered her smile with her hand.

"I'm a simple man, Ginny," Ted grinned, "I use simple words."

Harry turned and Vic could see he was putting a great deal of effort into not laughing.

"You're in an odd humor today, Ted."

Ted shrugged, "I'm happy."

Then he grinned over at Vic and squeezed her thigh. Vic felt the shy smile break across her face and knew there was no way she could stop it.

"Hands above the table!" Jamie shouted behind them, causing Vic to almost fall off her chair.

Vic turned to glare at her cousin feeling her face heat up, unconsciously directing some of her anxiety into the anger that bubbled at his surprising her.

"Are you going to make a habit of tormenting us every chance you get?" She shot at him. Why couldn't Jamie just leave her alone?

"Whoa," Jamie held up his hands, "I'm just playing Vicky, you know it's all in good fun."

Vic huffed, "You've never done this to me before."

"Yeah, well, Sean was a bit of a prick."

Vic felt like Jamie had just kicked her in the chest. She knew she and Sean hadn't been right for each other, but she hadn't thought he was an awful person.

"James!" Ginny gave her son a pointed stare.

"What?" Jamie defended as he pulled a soda can out of the fridge. "We all knew he was; it just took Vicky a while to see it. But she saw the light in the end and now she's with Ted and we can all breathe easy again."

Vic dropped her eyes down and realized she was wringing her hands. Did everyone feel that she had been dating a prick? Was the whole family talking about her poor choices behind her back, not saying anything because they all believed she wouldn't listen to reason? If everyone knew Sean was awful, why had no one made a point of showing her?

"Why don't you see if Al or Lily needs anything, Jamie?" Harry stepped between his eldest son and his wife, who was staring at the teen with menacing eyes.

Jamie glanced between his mum and Vic and then looked at his dad. "Yeah, good idea."

"Are you going to talk to him?" Ginny turned her dangerous glare to Harry.

"I'll talk him through it, love," Harry soothed, giving her a quick kiss. Ginny pursed her lips before seeming to decide to let it lie for now.

"I'm sorry," Vic kept her focus down at the table. "I shouldn't have goaded him."

"You're fine, Vic," Ted moved his arm to wrap it around her shoulders. "We're all a bit difficult when we're teenagers."

Vic bit her lip and leant into him, trying to take as much comfort as she possibly could in the warmth of his embrace.

"Are you excited about your new job?" Ginny asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Vic smiled, "I am, but I'm a little nervous too. I didn't really think that I'd get this one when you sent it to me. Most people I know write for a long time before they become assistant editors."

"But you have been writing dear," Ginny handed Harry the oven mitts and he pulled out the shepherd's pie that Grandma Molly made him teach her how to make. "You were the sole creator of Ron's initial website for his new company, all that text was put there by you. You handled the blog, you handled the page information, that site was all you."

"Plus your book," Ted added. "That's a lot of writing experience."

Vic started to object again but Ginny held up her hand.

"You'll do just fine, dear. I've known Emmeline for almost as long as I've known Harry, she wouldn't have hired you if she didn't think you were right for the job."

Vic nodded, but she still felt nervous. Why did it feel like everything made her nervous these days? Harry moved the large pie to the table and Vic tried to use it as a way to change the subject. She was done having the conversation revolve around her questionable life choices

"This is one of my favorite meals." She gestured to the shepherd's pie.

Ted hummed his agreement. "Aunt Lily's shepherd's pie is pretty amazing."

"I thought it was Uncle Harry's recipe?" Vic turned to him, grateful that Ted pushed the conversation away from the topics that made her stomach clench.

"Who do you think taught me how to make it?" Harry chuckled.

"I guess I forget sometimes that you and my aunts have families outside of us." Vic felt a bit sheepish. "I'm sure Aunt Hermione and the rest of them have recipes that are their parents' too, huh?"

Ginny laughed loud and Harry smiled at Vic's confused face. "Have you ever noticed that your Aunt Hermione doesn't tend to cook much? Yes, her parents have recipes they've passed down, but they've passed them down to Ron. Hermione hates cooking."

Vic chuckled and was grateful when Ginny suggested she and Ted collect her cousins for dinner. And thankfully the Potter brood managed to keep the conversation spinning well enough that Vic was able to just sit back and enjoy. But her initial feeling of dread seemed well justified when Uncle Harry asked her to help him with getting the pudding out later that evening.

"Vicky," Harry handed her a stack of plates, "How are things?"

"Fine," Vic took the plates and set them out on the table, trying for all the world to look unconcerned as she pointedly ignored the clenching feeling in her stomach and the way her heart beat harder in her chest.

"Vic, we love you, you know that, right?"

She nodded, still refusing to look her uncle in the eye.

"Then what's going on? You've been really reserved and jumpy tonight."

Vic bit her lip and tried for boldness, but when she met Uncle Harry's gaze, she realized how foolish an idea that had been. She was not strong enough to shrug this off while looking him in the eye.

"Are you unhappy with Teddy?" Harry pressed.

"No!" Vic felt the air rush out of her.

"Well, then what's going on?"

Vic bit her lip before falling into one of the chairs and wrapping her arms around her waist.

"You know what happened before we got together. Aren't you worried about Ted being with me?"

Harry stared at her blankly. "I'm sorry, that one completely missed me."

"Harry, I was encouraging Ted's flirting while I was dating and engaged to Sean. Wouldn't you be worried if Jamie started dating someone you knew wasn't faithful to their previous relationship?" Vic didn't dare look up at her uncle. She almost expected him to go talk to Ted then and now and convince him to wash his hands of her.

"What does Teddy say about what you're getting at here?" Harry came to sit across from her.

Vic shook her head. "He keeps telling me that I'm crazy."

"Then I'm going to side with Teddy."

Vic squeezed her arms tighter around herself. "You mean how everyone sided with me while I was in a relationship that I shouldn't have been in?"

Harry sighed. "Vicky, we love you, and if you had decided you did love Sean, then we would have done what we could to support you in that relationship."

"Even though everyone thought he was a prick? Even though it would have been bad for me to stay with him?" Vic finally looked up at Harry.

"Vicky, one of the things that come with being an adult is that the grown-ups that raised you have to back off and let you make your own decisions, and let you deal with whatever those consequences happen to be. We all still want to help you, and we may make suggestions along the way, but we can't dictate your lives. How else will you learn other than having to make your decisions and live with the consequences of them?"

"So, even if being with me is bad for Ted, you'll not try to stop him?"

Harry chuckled, "I've not seen Ted happier than I see him now with you, but yes, even if he was unhappy, I wouldn't try to sabotage your relationship with him. If he came to me for help, I would definitely try to help him find happiness, but I would never tell him to break off a relationship. Those sorts of decisions are personal ones, and they have to come from the individual."

Vic took a deep breath and forced herself to ask one last question. "What about the rest of your family, would they do the same thing?"

"Who do you think taught me that when a kid becomes an adult the grown-ups have to let them learn from their own choices?"

"So, no one is going to try and talk Ted out of being with me?"

"No, Vicky, I think the only person you need to be concerned about in that area is yourself."

Vic blinked, "What?"

"If you can't believe that you're worthy of being loved, then sooner or later, you'll be the one to walk away."

Vic sat in stunned silence as her uncle's words washed over her, but before she could respond, Lily came bounding in asking if it was time for dessert yet.

Uncle Harry's comment felt an awful lot like the list that her mum had written several months ago. She really wished that everyone would stop trying to vaguely point her in the right direction and just tell her what she needed to do. But Harry's comment about loving herself made her feel suddenly exposed in the worst way. She wanted to put on a sweatshirt and curl under a blanket. Why did the concept of loving herself make her want to find a rock to hide under? Vic realized it was probably close to the same reason that her mum's list made her want to tear the page out of her notebook and burn it.

"You ok?" Ted pulled her into him as they walked from the Potter's to his car. "You've been pretty quiet tonight."

Vic rested her head against his shoulder and sighed, "I'm starting to realize that I might have farther to go than I think I want to."

"You missed me," Ted leant back against his car and pulled her close to his chest. Vic let her arms snake around his neck and tried to enjoy the feeling of being wrapped up in Ted's embrace.

"My mum, and Uncle Harry, both seem to think that I've got some personal growth I could be doing, and I'm feeling like what they're suggesting is more than I might be able to handle."

"How can I help?" Ted dropped his face and nuzzled her cheek with his nose.

"I don't even know where to start, Ted, let alone how you could help."

Ted pulled his chin down her cheek, his five o'clock shadow pulling a giggle out of her.

"Well, maybe we sit down together, look at where you are, and see if between the two of us we can find a way forward, along with how I can help."

Vic bit her lip and pulled back to look at him. "This is scary."

"My mum says that most things that are worthwhile are scary." Ted soothed as he rubbed his hands up and down her back. "But you don't have to do it alone. Scary things aren't so bad when we do them with other people."

"Are you some self-exploratory expert then?"

Ted laughed and brought his lips to hers. Vic pulled closer, pressing up on her toes to deepen the kiss.

"There's the real Vic, I knew she couldn't have gone far." Ted murmured against her.

"What does that even mean?" She chuckled.

"You go get things, Vic. I'm not a self-help expert, but I know that you go get what you want, and that's the only thing you really need." Then he nipped at her ear. "And I'm never going to turn down excuses to spend more time with you."

He kissed down her neck and Vic hummed as her fingers moved through his turquoise hair.

"We should probably stop snogging out here," she sighed as he slowly moved his lips closer to hers. "I'm waiting for Jamie to come out and yell at us to stop."

Ted smirked as he pulled back, "You're probably right, but this is why I have a flat of my own."

"Why don't we take advantage of that before you take me home?" Vic finally started to feel more herself as Ted's appreciative hum vibrated in his chest against hers.

"See every now and again you have these amazing ideas and I end up wondering how I ever managed to make it this far without you."

"You're ridiculous," she pressed forward again, running her tongue against his lips.

"And you're kissing me," Ted murmured, pulling her flush against him and moving a hand to her hair.

"Will you two get a room!?" Jamie yelled from his bedroom window, looking down at the two of them in the front-drive.

"We were just on our way out, Jamie," Ted called back up to him as he reached behind him to open the car door.

When she finally made it home, Victoire opened up the notebook that had her mum's notes in it and read them again.

You and your desires are important.

You are a good person.

You are brave.

You must decide your life's story.

A few lines underneath them she added Uncle Harry's advice.

If you can't believe that you're worthy of being loved, then sooner or later, you'll be the one to walk away.

She didn't feel any closer to finding herself, but seeing it all laid out in front of her, she realized that Uncle Harry's words had given her a bit of direction. Maybe if she could just believe these things, then maybe it would help her see the way forward. And knowing that Ted was going to try and help her made her feel a little less like she was floundering.

Vic was pulled from her internal struggle by the chime of her text message notification.

Ted: Have you read my comments yet?

She laughed and pulled her laptop to her.

Vic: I was just about to start.

Ted's typing bubble made her giddy.

Ted: Good. I think you're going to like what I've put so far.

Vic typed in her password and waited for her computer to log in.

Vic: I'm sure that I'll wonder if we're reading the same document.

She bit her lip and smiled. Teasing Ted was almost as much fun as kissing him.

Ted: Stop that. Go read my comments and you'll see this story of yours is going to be big.

Vic rolled her eyes and opened her browser.

Vic: You have to say that, you're my boyfriend.

Ted's response was almost instant.

Ted: No, I have to say it because it's true. Now stop texting me and start reading. ;)

Vic opened the document and sighed. She hadn't read through her story in almost a year now. It felt like going back to an old childhood favorite food and it made her nervous. She'd liked some pretty awful things when she was a kid, some good things too, but a lot of things that now she found repugnant. Was she about to find out that she had spent three years on something that she now hated? Vic tried to breathe through the anxiety and took a deep breath.

"Let's get this over with." And she started reading.

#Endeavor #tedoire #tedoire fancfiction #tedoire au #tedoire muggle au #teddy x vic #ted x vic #teddy x victoire #teddy lupin x victoire weasley #teddy lupin #victoire weasley #next generation #next gen fanfic #next gen au #next generation muggle au #fluff #romance #coworkers romance #harry potter fanfiction

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superman86to99 · 4 years

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Superman #83 (November 1993)

Funeral for a Friend: uh, that one Green Lantern supporting character who died when Coast City got blown up (Joe? Gary?). In this issue DC’s superheroes pay tribute to the tragedy of Coast City while also deciding what the hell to do with the giant engine that’s now in its place. Weird early ‘90s Hawkman! Dr. Fate with boobs! Already-slightly-psychotic Hal Jordan! EVERYONE IS HERE.

(Nice one, Guy.)

Meanwhile, Lex Luthor Jr. is also sneaking around Engine City, supposedly to prevent it from falling into the ocean and killing some of Aquaman’s friends, but in reality he just wants to look into the Cyborg Superman’s computer to see if he can find a recipe for making kryptonite. As the heroes argue about what to do with Engine City (Hal says drop it into the water, screw the fish), some leftover Warworld aliens start attacking them, like the holdout Japanese soldiers who never found out WWII was over.

The attack precipitates the city’s fall into the water and the heroes have to think fast to prevent a fish holocaust. Their solution is for all the Green Lantern-related characters (Hal Jordan, Guy Gardner, Alan Scott, Alan’s daughter Jade) to “detoxify” the debris with their powers before it falls into the ocean. And it works! These guys should totally open a carpet cleaning business.

As for Lex Jr., he does find the recipe for kryptonite inside the crumbling city, but just as he’s about to write it down (he wasn’t carrying any floppy disks, apparently), Supergirl yanks him out of there to prevent him from burning alive. What an unsupportive girlfriend. Anyway, Superman then takes some of the debris and builds a giant memorial for Coast City’s 6,999,999 anonymous lost souls, and Gary. Sweet Gary. You will be missed.

Creator-Watch:

If the art looks different that’s because this is the first issue inked by Joe Rubinstein, ending Brett Breeding’s classic two and a half year run as Dan Jurgens’ main inker (so classic that it feels a lot longer than that). Breeding will be back for Superman/Doomsday: Hunter/Prey and other stuff, though. As for Rubinstein, Don says: “At the time, I had trouble with the transition, being soused to Brett Breeding’s finishes over Jurgens’ pencils, but looking at it now, the art looks great. It doesn’t look as smooth or blocky as Breeding’s finishes, but Rubinstein’s hatchier style serves Jurgens pretty well, even if it takes some getting used to.”

Plotline-Watch:

At the start of the issue, Superman goes to pick up Batman to take him to Coast City, only to find him wearing a different costume, acting differently, and sounding like a different guy. That’s because that’s not really Bruce Wayne in the suit anymore, but the replacement he got after Bane broke his back. That’s right: freakin’ Psi-Phon and Dreadnaught.

Superman gives a speech about how superheroes must work together to prevent another tragedy like Coast City from happening, but when Guy asks him if that means he’s going back to the Justice League, he’s like “uh, not yet.” Wisely, he’s gonna wait for Grant Morrison to get there first.

Hal Jordan’s characterization in this issue is interesting. In Green Lantern #47 (which came out the same month), he’s bummed about Coast City but still hopeful and serene, while here he’s already going Parallax on us. Wonder if Dan Jurgens knew more about what DC was planning for Hal than the other comic’s writer.

There’s a cute scene where Superman is flying by Kansas on his way to Coast City and quickly drops some flowers for Ma Kent. (That, or Flash picked this moment to hit on a random older woman.)

Former TV exec/crime boss Morgan Edge has released an autobiography where he trashes the Daily Planet’s Cat Grant for using her sexiness (and, you know, sex) to get dirt on him and send him to jail. He also accuses Cat of being a crappy mother to her son Adam. He kind of has a point there, because what kind of mom would let her kid play with an Atari in the early ‘90s?! The SNES and the Genesis were already out!

Believe it or not, Morgan Edge’s pervy dad in that screenshot above isn’t the creepiest thing in that scene. Don: “Very spooky how the guy dangling outside of Cat’s apartment goes without mention. An ominous foreshadow of one of the very few missteps of Jurgens’ run.”

But the most ominous part of the issue is at the end, when Clark Kent accepts Jimmy Olsen’s offer to become roomies, since Clark lost his apartment on account of being dead and all. Don wants you to know that “Jimmy is still in that towel by the way” in the scene below. I hope.

Patreon-Watch:

Shout out to our patrons Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, and a warm welcome to Samuel Doran! Last month our patrons got to read an article about Superman’s bizarre first Elseworlds appearance ever, the Kamandi: At Earth’s End miniseries, and got a veeeeeery early look at this post you’re reading right now (since Don finished his part way before I did mine). Right now I’m preparing this month’s Patreon-only article, which involves Superman wearing pointy ears and Luthor wearing make up. Find out more at https://www.patreon.com/superman86to99

Oh, and in case you missed it, we’ve been posting Don’s new commentary for older issues on the Patreon as free posts (click above and scroll down to see them). EVEN MORE from Don after the jump!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

Another classic issue, and such a nice wrap-up to the "Death and Return" storyline (as well as being a much-needed check-In on the DC Universe at large). We start with the cover, and it’s a very good one, letting the reader know right away that it’s a big team-up issue. (It also is a real showcase for 90s costume design, and how weird the JLA lineup was at this point).

The opening splash is a neat image of a rarely seen pairing, Superman and Commissioner Gordon. Jurgens draws James Gordon a little heavier and more Pa-Kent like than I’m used to seeing him, but it’s still neat to see him interacting with Superman. A page later, we get another rare pairing—the returned Superman with the imposter Batman, Jean-Paul Valley. The tension in the interaction between “AzBats” and Superman comes across well in their exchange, as does Superman’s doubts about who he was really speaking to.

It’s a dreamy looking Superman crossing the country from Metropolis to Coast City, and I daresay that they’re trying to channel Dean Cain a little as he approaches Kansas.

The best panel of the issue though is the two page spread of all the heroes gathering at the wreckage of Coast City, and there’s so much to love here. The body language, and facial expressions speak volumes about each of the characters: Superman looking swashbuckling and upbeat, Green Lantern brooding like a man barely holding on, Green Arrow all attitude and shadow. Just a great spread.

Another cool image is Aquaman showing up late, and emerging very royally in protection of his ocean (undercut masterfully by a legitimately funny couple of lines from Guy Gardner). Page 14’s Hal Jordan is a great drawing, and this whole storyline seems like a table setter for the "Emerald Twilight" story coming up.

The sequence of a firelit Luthor at the computer is a good look at his madness, but it does beg the question of just how little Supergirl seems to take in. He was JUST talking aloud about Kryptonite, and she emerges seeming not to hear. The image of Supergirl flying Lex away as he struggles against her psychic grab is a good one, even if her uniform is depicted as a little clingier than I imagine it to really be.

Superman floating above his obelisk with his arm in front of his face like Dracula is a cool look, even if it is a little dramatic.

Lastly, the image of Clark turning up the stereo is a good one, even if his hair length is wildly shorter here than in Coast City (and I usually dislike it when they mention real world bands, as it comes off trying too hard to be hip).

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I have to love how meta it is to have Superman outright saying that Batman is dressing more “threatening” these days, on page 2. I guess he couldn’t come right out and say “you have an extreme new look, and it’s totally badass! Batman the next generation!”

Last we saw of Supergirl she was storming out of the party on Lex’s Zeppelin after Lex II was getting all horned up at the sight of Lois Lane, but it appears here they’ve mostly patched things up as they fly to Coast City.

More meta-stuff: Jimmy clunkily complimenting Lois on her new hair by saying she “oughta be on TV or something!”. This whole exchange is very expository, really, “Clark must be pretty mad… though he’s busy worrying about where he’s going to bunk…” Anything else to get in there, Jimmy?

The harshness some of the heroes have for Lex Junior seems a little out of place, especially since he’s still known to most of the heroes as an ally from "Panic in the Sky", and the "Doomsday" storyline. Superman’s comment was borderline, but where is all this anger Flash is showing coming from?

Being as familiar as we are with these writers, there are certain phrases or ideas that a certain writer will go to way, way too often. Byrne had a number of stories where Superman would “ionize” something with his heat vision, and it occurred to me that maybe he just liked that word. I would submit that Dan Jurgens likes the word “atomize”. It was used by the Cyborg Superman when talking about Doomsday, and is used a bunch just in this issue.

I find it hilarious that Hawkman appears so prominently in this issue, but doesn’t get any lines. This issue is an interesting time capsule—I had almost forgotten about the de-aged Starheart powered Alan Scott era.

Speaking of lines, they don’t give Captain Marvel much to do in this issue, but I always like seeing him, even if his only contribution is the odd “Holy Moley!”

Colouring error on page 12, where Hal’s ring has a red centre (maybe the colourist had Alan Scott’s red and green look on the brain?)

A raging Hal standing by Green Arrow is a sad foreshadowing of their confrontation to come in Zero Hour.

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nightwang96 · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Dick Grayson, Slade Wilson, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, SladeRobinWeek 2020, Day 2: Merfolk, I know nothing about boats, and you can tell, ambiguous ending Series: Part 2 of SladeRobin Week 2020 Summary:

'“Deathstroke,” Bruce said finally.

“What?”

“That’s what he’s called. Or at least what we call him anyway.”

Dick’s head was swimming. He’d heard of mers being given names before, usually old mers who showed up in the same places over and over. But he’d never heard of Deathstroke.'

For the SladeRobin Week prompt Merfolk.

Dick had seen mer before. It was pretty unavoidable when you spent as much time on the ocean as Dick did. Most sailors didn’t particularly care for mers. They were inquisitive, smart creatures that enjoyed interacting with humans, but this often led to mishaps. Mers had been known to grab things off of ships, to tangle rudders and even sink smaller boats. They never hurt anyone on purpose, as far as they were aware, but often they couldn’t help it.

Dick had never really had a problem with them. In fact, he quite liked the mer. He liked to watch them streak through the water beside the ship, playing in the surf, breaching the water with a flick of their powerful tails. He liked listening to their curious chitters, and on rare occasions, the beautiful sound of their songs.

He never tried to interact with them though. That was always a recipe for disaster. Bruce had told him once about a young crewmate who had reached out to touch a mer’s tail and instead had been dragged into the water by the creature. According to Bruce, it had looked like the mer had only wanted to play, chittering excitedly as the crew desperately tried to pull him back on board. It had let him go once he had drowned, perhaps no longer interested once he had stopped moving, and they had managed to drag his body back onto the ship.

Bruce told the story often, not to incite violence against the mers, but as a cautionary tale. They were wild creatures, and though they looked like humans, they were not. They were something else entirely, and they were dangerous. You were better off leaving them alone.

Dick had been a crewmate on Bruce’s ship ever since his own parents had been murdered by pirates when he was eight. Bruce had taken him in, given him a job, and saved his life. He’d been sailing with him ever since, and in all that time, he’d never forgotten Bruce’s warning.

So when he saw the mer, floating quietly a little ways away from Dick’s post, he’d simply watched, curious. The mer was huge, easily the biggest one he’d ever seen, with a thick tail covered in gleaming orange and black scales. He was drifting on his back, white hair fanned out around his head, and Dick realised that he was missing an eye, thick scars a tangled mess over the socket. The mer was watching him too, gaze sharp as he lazily kept pace with the ship.

Dick was tempted to call someone over, maybe Jason or Tim, so that they could see the mer too, but something stopped him. Most mers tended to hang out in pods. They were incredibly social, and those that were alone tended not to draw attention to themselves, keeping away from boats and humans.

This mer was definitely not in a pod, or at least, hadn’t brought his pod with him to check out their ship. Dick slunk closer, leaning his elbows on the edge of the ship so he could try to get a better look. The mer tilted his head, turning over slowly to swim a little closer.

“What are you doing alone out here?” Dick murmured. The mer couldn’t understand him. They mostly communicated through chitters and clicks, and occasionally, wordless songs that carried across the salt air.

The mer made a strange clicking noise in his throat, and splashed his tail a little. Dick grinned, and the mer tilted his head, before peeling his lips back in an imitation of a smile, showing a row of sharp, deadly teeth.

“Yo Dickface! Get over here!” Jason’s shout obviously startled the mer, because with a flick of his tail, he dived beneath the dark waters, disappearing from view. Dick was a little disappointed, scanning the waves for any sign of it before giving up with a sigh, and going to see what Jason wanted.

He’d forgotten all about the mer by the next time he saw it. Orange flashes had caught his attention, bringing him over to the edge of the ship to peer into the frothing waters. The mer poked his head up, and Dick almost fell back on his ass, letting out a surprised laugh. The mer grinned at him, rolling over to float on his back, tail twitching.

“Hello again,” Dick said softly, pleased for a reason that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The mer chittered back at him, eye half closing, face turning towards the afternoon sun. Dick watched him for a long moment as the mer sunbathed, examining the pattern of his scales, and the litter of scars that were dotted across the mer’s torso.

“You’re a fighter hm,” Dick said. Mers often got involved in territorial disputes so it wasn’t unusual to see scars, but this many? Dick couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Had he been forced from his pod? Bullied? Hunted? Were those scars from other mers, or humans?

There were people who would kill a mer. Either to protect their ship, or to prevent them from overfishing certain areas, or for their meat and scales, or even simply because they found them annoying. Dick had always found it distasteful. Mers were intelligent, beautiful creatures, and the thought that some people would kill them simply because they got in the way, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The mer seemed to sense his souring mood, because he sunk a little in the water, tail flicking in agitation. He chittered loudly and splashed a little, and Dick stepped back enough to avoid getting sprayed.

“Wow look at that thing.”

Dick had been so distracted, that he hadn’t noticed Jason coming up behind him. He spun around, the insane urge to hide the mer from view making him step in front of Jason.

“What are you doing here?”

Jason gave him a look, like Dick had grown an extra head. “I’m doing my job. Obviously you have more important things to be doing.”

Jason leaned over to get a better look at the mer, whistling when he eyed the thick, muscular tail. “That thing could probably do some serious damage.”

“It seems pretty docile,” Dick defended, not sure why it was so important that Jason not think badly of the mer.

“Docile? Have you seen the scars on it?” Jason made a sharp gesture and the mer, who had been watching him carefully, gave an agitated hiss, teeth bared.

Jason stepped back, discomfort clear on his face. “That thing is dangerous Dick. Leave it alone and get back to your job.”

Shooting him a glare, Jason gave one last assessing look to the mer and then stomped away. Dick sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Jason was right. The mer seemed docile and friendly, but he was a wild creature. He was unpredictable.

A soft chitter drew his attention back to the mer. He was almost within touching distance of the ship, gaze sharp as he eyed Dick. A swish of his tail, lifted him up in the water, and for a moment Dick was tempted to lean down and meet him halfway.

“I’m sorry,” Dick croaked, even though the mer couldn’t understand him. He turned away, and hurried across the deck, trying to put all thought of the mer from his mind. Dick would forget all about it, and the mer would lose interest, and everything would be fine.

Dick was woken by a haunting song, drifting through the salt air. He listened for a long moment, blinking into the dark of the cabin, an indescribable emotion swelling in his chest. Then he pulled his boots on and made his way up onto the deck.

Bruce was stood at the wheel, a dark shadow in the soft moonlight. He turned to look at Dick as he came up beside him, face drawn and serious.

“What’s that noise?” Dick asked, hushed. The melody was louder now, out in the open. It was beautiful and sad, and Dick wanted to close his eyes and fall into the smooth, low tones.

“It’s a mer,” Bruce said, just as quietly. His grip was tight on the wheel, eyes gleaming as he scanned the mirror glass surface of the water.

“You’re worried.”

Dick knew that Bruce was wary of mers, but he hadn’t realised that he would be so concerned, just hearing the song. Bruce had seen mers hundreds of times, and never looked like this.

“How many times have you heard a mer sing?” Bruce asked, and Dick was confused by the subject change.

“I don’t know, once maybe?” Once in the wild at least. It had been much more distant than this, higher and still beautiful, and far enough away that there was no hope of seeing the mer that was singing. Later that night there’d been a storm. Two ships had been lost at sea. Dick had been lucky that they’d made it out alive.

Bruce’s gaze was heavy. “Hearing mer song is never a good sign.”

Dick had never taken Bruce to be superstitious, but then Bruce had far more experience with mers than Dick did. His stomach squirmed, anxiety creeping beneath his ribs, as he scanned the horizon. Somewhere out there, somewhere close, was the mer, its mournful song echoing across the waters.

Tim appeared beside him, rubbing sleepily at his eyes, closely followed by Jason. “What’s going on?” Tim asked, voice thick.

“It’s a mer,” Dick parroted.

Jason shot him a look. “You don’t think it’s that mer that’s been hanging around do you?”

Dick hadn’t even thought of that. This bone-chilling melody, echoing through the still night, was so far removed from the mer that Dick had seen, that he hadn’t even equated the two together.

“What mer?” Bruce snapped, his focus suddenly laser sharp on Dick and Jason.

Jason shrugged. “It was some big, scarred up mer. Dick was messing about with it the other day.”

“I wasn’t messing about with it!” He knew better than to mess around with mer. He’d just been watching it, talking to it a little. That was all. “It was just kind of, floating around by the boat. It didn’t do anything.”

“Have you seen it before?”

“Yeah, once I guess. Why?” Dick got the feeling that he was missing something. Mer hung around the boat all the time, they were harmless for the most part. He didn’t get why Bruce was so bothered by this.

The music cut off suddenly, and Bruce’s jaw tightened, ignoring Dick in favour of scanning the waters again. The silence was almost eerier than the music had been, only the soft sounds of the wind and the gentle lap of the water as the ship cut through the surface.

There was a bang and the ship shuddered through a hit, rocking with the force of it. Dick cried out, startled, and staggered not to lose his footing. The rest of the crew spilled out from their quarters, shouting in alarm and hurrying to their posts.

“What the fuck?” Jason shouted.

“There,” Bruce said, pointing into the dark. Dick squinted into the water and, yes there, a flash of orange, the surface of the water breaking. It was the mer. But what was it doing? Another thud, and the boat listed like it was riding a wave. Dick couldn’t believe the sheer power behind it, the strength it must take to rock the ship like this.

Bruce grit his teeth. “It’s going to bring the whole ship down.”

Dick ran to the edge, leaning over to try and get a proper glimpse of the mer. Behind him Bruce shouted in alarm, but Dick ignored him. If he could just get the mer’s attention, maybe calm it down, then maybe it would stop attacking the ship.

“Hey,” he called out. The wind whipped at his hair, his clothes, carrying his voice out into the water. Another thud, followed by an ominous groaning sound. Dick gripped the edge of the ship for all he was worth, riding out the shudder. If the mer kept hitting the ship like this, it would breach the hull. The whole ship might sink.

“Hey, stop! It’s okay!” he called again.

“What are you doing you idiot?” Jason shouted, close behind him.

Dick ignored him, leaning a little further over, and there just beneath him, orange scales and then a flash of white hair. The mer floated up to the surface, his one sharp eye fixed intently on Dick. And that was good, as long as it was focused on him it wasn’t destroying the ship. Dick smiled and the mer smiled back, sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

The mer disappeared, diving beneath the waters. Dick scanned the still surface for a long, anxious moment. Then the mer was breaching, lunging up towards him, and Dick pulled back in surprise, but he wasn’t quick enough to avoid the grab, the mer’s sharp claws digging into his wrist, dragging him out over the edge of the ship.

For a moment, Dick seemed suspended in motion, too surprised to scream as he fell overboard. Then hands grabbed the back of his trousers, halting his fall, and more hands gripped the back of his shirt, his hips, hauling him backwards. The mer bared his teeth, snarling furiously and tugged painfully on his wrist. Blood dripped down his arm and splashed onto the mer’s cheek, but the mer didn’t even seem to notice.

Then Bruce was there beside him, leaning over the edge to thrust a pike down at the mer. It twisted away, but the sharp end still caught its shoulder, and it shrieked in pain. A great heave, and Dick was falling backwards onto the deck, the mer releasing him with a howl. He collapsed in a tangle of limbs, heart racing, the blood roaring through his ears.

“You fucking idiot!” Jason was yelling, but he was still holding onto Dick, hands grabbing at his shirt as though Dick could slip away at any moment.

Dick leaned back against him, gasping in desperate breaths. He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to being overboard, in the water with a mer. Tim crouched beside him, hands fluttering in the air.

“What was that?” Tim’s voice was high pitched, strained. “Why did it grab you?”

The hits on the boat had stopped, maybe because the mer had lost interest, maybe because it had failed to grab Dick, maybe because Bruce had injured it. Bruce himself was a taut line in front of him, pike still clenched in his fists.

“I don’t know,” Dick gasped. “It’s never done anything like that before!”

“Deathstroke,” Bruce said finally.

“What?”

“That’s what he’s called. Or at least what we call him anyway.”

Dick’s head was swimming. He’d heard of mers being given names before, usually old mers who showed up in the same places over and over. But he’d never heard of Deathstroke.

“Why Deathstroke?” Tim asked.

“Because he’s dangerous,” Bruce turned to look at him then, and his face was pale in the moonlight. “He’s got a reputation for attacking ships, sinking them, and then slaughtering anyone in the water.”

He hadn’t felt malicious, when he was drifting lazily beside the ship, but then again, he had just attacked them.

“I’ve never heard of him grabbing people off the ship before though.”

Jason snorted behind him. “Trust it to be you Dick.”

“But I didn’t do anything. Bruce I swear,” Dick said. All he’d done was watch it, talk to it a little. The mer couldn’t even understand him.

“Jay go check if there’s been any damage done. The rest of you can go back to bed,” Bruce said, rubbing his temple like he had a headache coming.

Dick clambered to his feet, feeling strangely unsteady. Tim hovered by his elbow, hands out like he was worried Dick was gonna fall.

“I’m fine,” Dick said, giving Tim a wry smile.

“You’re bleeding.”

Huh. Dick had forgotten about that. Now that Tim had pointed it out, his arm was throbbing, bleeding all over his shirt from punctures and scratches in his skin. He examined the deep claw marks with a morbid curiosity. Mers were predators after all, and their claws were huge, and sharp enough to rend the flesh from your bones.

“It’s not too bad,” he said, but he let Tim fuss over him anyway, cleaning and dressing the wound.

When he climbed back into bed, he found himself thinking again of the mer. Why try to grab him? Had it been trying to drown him? Kill him? He’d thought that the mer had liked him.

It was an uneasy, restless sleep that night.

He didn’t see the mer again for a couple of days, and he’d been watching out for him. He’d hoped to catch a glimpse of him during the day, maybe try and see if the mer was hostile, or if he was back to his lazy curiosity.

When the mer did return, it was night again, and Dick was awake, taking a turn keeping watch. Orange scales caught the moonlight, and Dick was instantly alert, heart racing. The mer’s head broke the water surface, his gaze unerringly meeting Dick’s and the mer tilted its head and chittered, splashing his tail. Dick edged closer, cautiously and the mer reached towards him, as though beckoning him. Dick stepped back instinctively, shaking his head, and the mer bared its teeth with a strangled hiss.

“Bruce!” Dick shouted, just as the mer lunged down, smashing against the hull of the boat with his tail. The cabin door flew open and then Bruce was running towards him, Jason and Tim hot on his heels.

“It’s back?” Bruce snapped, then grit his teeth as another smash resonated up the hull He grabbed up his pike and rushed to the edge, peering over in an attempt to get the mer in his line of sight.

“It’s going to sink the ship,” Tim said quietly, and Dick realised suddenly that he was right. Under the water, it was almost impossible to hit the mer, and the ship couldn’t take the repeated battering. He moved to stand beside Bruce, chest clenching at the older man’s expression, fear and grim determination.

“Get away from the edge,” Jason snapped. “It’s you it wants.”

Dick blinked, Jason’s words sinking into his brain. Dick wasn’t sure if giving the mer what it wanted would stop it from attacking the boat, or killing the rest of the crew, but at this point they were kind of out of options. The ship groaned and shuddered, and they couldn’t even see the mer, let alone hit it. If they didn’t do something, they were all dead anyway.

Dick climbed up onto the edge of the ship. Bruce made a startled noise beside him, and as Dick dived, he made to grab him, fingers brushing against Dick’s ankle. The water, when he hit it, was ice cold, stealing the breath from his lungs. He kicked up to the surface, looking up at the ship as the waves buffeted him.

Jason was yelling, leaning over the edge, and Bruce was holding him back, face devastated. For a moment they tussled together, shouting, until Tim grabbed Jason around the middle and Jason slumped in his hold.

The water broke in front of Dick, the mer breaching the surface to regard him with a tilted head. Bruce shouted something, but Dick couldn’t hear what he said, all of his focus on the dangerous creature in front of him. His teeth chattered, fear flooding his veins, instincts telling him to swim away fast. But that would be pointless. The mer was faster, stronger, deadlier, than Dick. He just had to pray that whatever happened, if he was killed now by the mer, that the ship would be safe. That his family would be safe.

The mer chittered, swimming close enough that Dick could reach out and touch him if he wanted. Dick was treading water as the mer floated in front of him, and Dick couldn’t tell what exactly the mer wanted. Tentatively, he brought a hand up. The mer copied the movement, touching their fingers together.

Dick smiled, and the mer grinned back at him.

#sladerobinweek2020 #day 2: merfolk #dc #dick grayson #slade wilson #bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake #merfolk au #fanfiction #my writing #ambiguous ending

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unikornu · 4 years

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🌹, 🍂, 💐, 🌺, 💫, ☄️ for Lucy? 🍁, 🌸, 💦 for Harrison?

Thank you kindly for the asks! Let’s go:

Lucy:

🌹 Where in the world does your OC feel most at home? Is there any reason why? If it’s not the place they were born, where were they born? Is there a certain somebody that makes them feel at home where ever they may be? What does home mean to them?

Home for Lucy is whenever she is sure no one from the fair distance and within same walls wants to stab her in her sleep. Nuka World under Harrison protection will be the most home-ish and safe place since also after the disciples wiping she did prove her worth and loyalty to the raider’s goals and now they no longer need to sleep with one eye open with Gage since Harrison is patrolling and staying up all nights and gang leaders might not have such a strong urge to betray her. Later eventually she will set up base back in Sanctuary in her mother’s home since they will need second solid base in Commonwealth and somewhere deep in the woods still lies a pre-war secret lab section that will be important for Harrison in order to understand the experiment and maintain his power as well as his body. A place where she can put down her guard, where she can sense presence of her boss and be sure Gage is also nearby will always be worth calling home but there are few places like this since later on her reputation will be more knowledgeable to wasteland folks and she will be on wanted list of sort.

So yeah what can i say...away from Nuka World home announcement for them would sound like so: A small blond lady along with a raider thug and tall grumpy old man looking for a warm cave to duck in without worry of being pitchforked by angry local settlers and half of the commonwealth. Ain’t many places they can call home, poor fuckers.

🍂 Does your OC enjoy hugs? What do they do as a show of affection for: their friends, their family, their significant other(s) or for strangers? Over all what are they like with receiving affection from others?

Oh she secretly loves hugs and affection of any kind but keeps in mind its better to leave them for very few and private moments. Besides how the hell that would make her look in society she is stuck with. Harrison and type of her job forced her to strip her mind from emotions as they were useless and making her weak but once the events calmed down they do come at peace and leave that part behind. With friends in public like Lizzie she will bump against their shoulder with a smile or chuckle, its safe in public and still reflects that she feels good in their company. With Harrison she will just bury herself in deep fatherly hug when gone for a few days, especially he is very tall and big so its like hugging a yao guai just in a brown thick coat. And because she never had a good father experience that hug will mean a world to them. With Gage she knows he has a hard time to be soft fucker but as the time goes on, the affection switches from small things, like checking his patch out and forcing to help taking care of his wounds too, not just hers, into letting down the bitch tough face and raider stiff attitude. Inviting him for the drink, just two of them, closing the distance and ending up just resting against his chest or sleeping hugged to his back. If the urge is strong and rules can go fuck themselves she will just charge at him and let all that sweet stuffed in her chest love drown him.

As for people who didn’t reach yet friend level any kind of touching contact which doesn’t involve knife is for her a way to show affection. Be it soft fist bump in their arm, fast shoulder shake or very split millisecond side hug. Hell, even if she smiles at them its already a good sign, and in a humane soft manner, not the smirky bitch one. If her resting bitch face goes away its already a fantastic sign and promising future she won’t stab them later on.

💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed? Who cares for them and in what ways? Does your OC enjoy being doted on or are they a terrible patient? Reversed: is your OC good at taking care of others who are ill or in need?

If you tell her to do that when there is shiet to be done and there almost always is in her mind you will see a constant middle finger, raised from the bed and the moment you turn around or leave she will be gone, sneaking away to get at least her knife and try to leave outside. She was raised to fulfill mission, no matter what so a stupid cold or broken bone is suppose to nail her in place. Fuck no, she can’t right? She can’t be that weak even if pain sweats her eyes. Gage learns slowly her urges as with each park taken he sees her taking extreme solutions to many situations, not thinking about possible bad outcomes so when the really bad cold catches her or she got badly wounded again he will be the one yelling at her to stop that shit. Aside from usual care like shoving injections or closing wounds and occasional cooking he will be constantly ensuring her that she can close both eyes shut and get an actual restful sleep, that he is on the watch and nothing out there waits to kill her when she ain’t looking. World neither will fall apart in flames if she will be gone in dreams for few hours. With Harrison come back that part is becoming easier as the simple sharp look in his eyes of mixed care and threat is convincing enough to put that knife down and shove her ass back in bed. With Gage guarding the Fizztop and Harrison overlooking the rest of the town there is no way of sneaking out and in this case it would be a bit ungrateful since they both put so much effort for her.

She is better at taking care of others than herself tho if these are in her social circle. She doesn’t need to force herself, it comes natural to her. She will switch in a second from a vicious bitch to a caring bitch. Trying even to overcome her lack of cooking skills to deliver something warm and edible to that person if need. If she can’t get that fucking soup perfect for shit she will threaten and kidnap a local masterchef of sort to make and teach her how to do it. She means well but...ya remember her empathy can have weird and extreme outcomes.

Lol imagining like someone being under her care when sick and they go to the bathroom and spot a chef cook in a kitchen chained to a fucking stove cooking some good shit and Lucy siting at the table reading a cooking recipe and pointing a pistol at them.

🌺 What does your OC do to calm down when they’re scared or after a nightmare? Do they have any special comfort items or need to be reassured by a specific person? How do they handle this if they’re alone?

Normally she would drink or take calmex right away but she slowly tries to give up on that addiction as they do more harm than good. Having Gage or Harrison around will help to break that thought if she can either crawl up to Porter’s bed or wake him up to ensure that everything is real and alright or kindly ask Harrison to watch over her as he doesn’t need to sleep. Maybe he looks like a nightmare in a dark but its her nightmare she is familiar with.

If alone tho she will struggle, she hates to be alone for too long. If fear strikes her at battlefield she will try to cover her fear and damp it down with anger instead, psycho or fury could help and she isn’t addicted to it as to calmex so that’s one way out but stupid. If its just a nightmare in a middle of a night she won’t go immediately to sleep but walk around, talking to herself and convincing it was just a dream, grab a mannequin, do a silly dance with it, anything silly to relax a mind and take it off the stress and that nightmare. A shot of booze won’t hurt as long as it ends up on just one but it rarely does. Reassurance is her best ally in these beside she is too big of a girl for comforting items like an old plush puppet found in some certain treehouse back in Sancturary....right...riiiiight? ._.

💫What is your favorite fact about this character and why?

I think the simple fact that she is kind of evil oc and she knows about it. I don’t think there is many characters of this kind out there but i might be wrong. Since childhood i was trying to strike best - peaceful outcomes in games and so on but later on i started to sympathize with actual villains, be it games and stories. They can be full of surprises and complex in a interesting way, prove to be actually powerful allies as well and in general they talk to me more than a basic superman trying to strike for a world peace.

☄️ Does this OC deserve better treatment from you? Do you make them suffer just a little bit too much? Be nice to them!

Oh ye, ofc she deserves better, she wants hugs, friends, she is bad but she wants a warm treatment too from time to time, she still have emotions ;c Me, the creator, Uni, i’m horrible to her. I burned her hands too, like noooooo you can’t just wear gloves all the time for no reason, lets do smth bout it that will fit with all that dedication ya willing to push yourself in a fight no matter the consequences. Get burned bitch. Anyway, i’m taking her off the calmex addiction, giving her Harrison back as a better man who wants to protect her and do braids on her hair and softening the stinky to a level of a warm wet piece of trash, maybe getting some actual friends on a way. The pages on a start were focus more on a action and game lore kind off and just parks themselves but now with last page i finally get to actually break down and slow the shit to get to more emotional level, at least i hope to get it that way.

Now Harrison time:

🍁 Where does your OC go when they need to have some time to themselves? Would they ever have their own “comfort corner” filled with all the things they like? Do they have a favorite spot outside that feels like its theirs and theirs alone?

Sadly he will be very lost at the start to find this kind of spot as he popped into the world from nowhere, just finally doing the separation from Lucy to a nearby old synth skeleton in a heat of a fight situation. Since the disciples base got a vacancy and cleaning it up feels too much of an effort for the rest of gangs he decided to make this place his comfort zone as its fairly close to Feit base but still separated behind walls, no windows to peek in for curious ones. He can’t sleep so he has a plenty of time to make it his corner. The only things he posses are his memories so he will just meditate there and surround himself with all the good moments from the past, adding the new ones to the collection, keeping his humanity on check and all the urges balanced. Also trying new tricks with his powers feels safe to do it there, the telekinetic ones especially since the place is spacey and there ain’t much to break. He doesn’t want to go too far away even if he needs a moment, he always has in the back of his head the need to be close when problems arise.

Personally on a side note i struggle to think of an explanation to the Nuka World leaders and overall people there as to how Lucy will explain to them...who the fuck he is and why he is there and where he came from and why give him a disciple base. Like...saying a truth to Gage is easier since they run together but the rest? She can’t even say he is her lost-found father since they don’t even look like family.

🌸 What are some of their favorite things and why? List as many as you can think of!

There won’t too many as he just got off but some basic stuff i know for now:

- sweet snacks, whiskey and smokes as he still remembers these tastes from pre-war: just being softie for these small habits and diet sins

- being in charge, keeping order around due to his profession, even if times changes he still keeps the attitude and he just likes it

- training the newbie raiders, pointing out mistakes to Porter, advising Lucy on some combat moves and tips: it might feel like he is being proud, all knowing but he actually is hell of a experienced smart fighter, don’t get fooled by his age either, he just enjoys training people under him and see them improve

- proving Porter wrong: oh boy they really don’t like each other at the start

- doing dem braids, he starts to have a soft spot for going father mode

- even if he isn’t fully human he takes care of his “shell”, perfectly shaving, keeping his shirts clean and smooth, overall he enjoys that “self care” routine even it it might feel silly in the wasteland and due to the fact who he is

💦 If you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this OC’s life what would it be and why?

Probably killing his son. The experiment would get to him one way or another since he would get suspicious what kind of shady business is going on in police department and asking too many questions and stuffing nose in corners he shouldn’t would eventually lead anyway to his assassination and still giving his body for that experiment resulting in same outcome but the sudden trauma and speed of events is what pushed him out of there, taking control of himself and situation also resulting in his nature softening and toning down, knowing he doesn’t have much left and it can be lost at any moment.

#rockshortage #soft ask meme #thank you!#lucy feit #harrison #been a while but its a good warm up every time

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amieyhko · 4 years

Text

Escapril 2019

escaprilday 2019 // 1: a fresh start

two Costco bags full of

umma-certified clean clothes,

“unpacking cannot begin with wet clothes”

Taipei humidity is unkind.

coins clink,

white noise revs

drowning out the drizzle

as heart somersaults

to the rhythm of the cycles:

what — tum — am I — ble

doing — tumble — here?

the darks tumble its final spin

as the lights

click —

into a stop.

a whiff into a warm towel

warns me the comforts of home,

promising

of munchies, blankies, and speedy wifi

of cushy floor space where crafting

and writing past midnight can be done in secret

but —

fold — maybe — toss — I changed —

yellow blouse — or gave up too easily —

fold — or could it be —

toss — I’m listening to all the wrong voices? —

red turtleneck — no — flick —

wait, this is so soft now, I guess the washing machine in that guest house in Seoul was indeed really terrible —

fold — yes, this is how it should feel on my skin —

toss – my heart knows, though —

fuzzy sock — maybe home is where I need to be right now —

into basket — there’s nothing wrong with —

grab — starting over again.

escaprilday 2019 // 2: april showers

you said all memorable moments

include an unexpected deluge

I nod and laugh

as the metro ac pierces through

my drenched jacket

I shiver as I feel my clammy socks

cling onto my not-rainproof Docs

("they're not?" you ask in shock)

ears ringing still

from speakers booming

throat scratchy from scream-singing

at the top of our lungs.

still, you smile, shiver, and say,

with half-dazed eyes,

all good memories

end in rain.

escaprilday 2019 // 3: incorporate music

“Hope I’m not tired of rebuilding”

at this in-between

this time of heating up lukewarm lattes

and microwaving soggy french fries,

a surrendering of old and new

kindles a familiar tune:

“not what’s easy, what do you want?”

at this in-between,

the seconds between a squat and a jump

or the hours during an endless free fall,

a whisper sings an awakening:

“even a phoenix dies”

so at this in-between

muster up the strength to

inhale blue

and exhale gold.

escaprilday 2019 // 4: anxiety

lacuna

¡amiga!” he chimes like clockwork

with a sonrisa that has probably charmed plenty of hearts.

my fist bumps his and I walk toward the dark halls

where they tilt their heads forward and say

“안녕하세요” they grin,

some fake, others genuine,

mostly muscle memory.

“哈咯“ she greets as I turn the corner—

a sound of familiarity.

the velcros on my lips finally relax

till we part ways to our stations

“how are you?” their words flow dry

they probably don’t want to find out

my tongue lands on one syllable:

“good”.

escapril 2019 // 5: back to nature

I’ve a secret spot for seeing stars in Taipei City.

after a day downtown,

blasting my headphones at damaging decibels,

fixing makeup with samples at drugstores,

and chasing after buses,

I skip down the announced “platform two for Taipei Zoo”

and gaze down at the light show stage named Zhongxiao Fuxing.

as the red greens, a rush of headlights streams at me—my eyes

lose focus, my heart

leaps back into my chest just as

the home-bound metro approaches.

I’ll always remember the yard at Tiszavasvári

where we lay to see a starry night drawn by the Creator

after a day of listening to screaming children,

braiding their hairs,

and chasing after the impossible ones,

we stood in awe, jaws dropped, then soon learned

our necks weren’t strong enough

so we lay down, evening breeze

accompanied by the crickets sang a lullaby—

my eyes played a senseless game

of connect-the-dots, my heart skipped several beats

as I let go of the memories of beds and blankets.

escapril 2019 // 6: nostalgia

missing you is easy.

remembering you creeps

up in little mundanities

like a cup of fruit tea

a bottle of Clorox

or an inappropriately loud laughter--

to my consolation, yours is unmatchable.

although,

the sound of your laughter rings

quieter

till I can whisper:

escapril 2019 // 7: start with a time of day

3 a.m.

why wait

for dawn when

we can set yesterday

in flames

over this river?

escapril 2019 // 8: love poem

I cannot recall the exact words uttered

but something in my heart fluttered:

our eyes met for a millisecond

we cracked, till our breaths weakened.

our words, lost in the waves

transformed into safes

I open in my heart of hearts

to feel at home within the laughs of your loves.

escapril 2019 // 9: focus on the color

chorok hadn't found its form in

korean of old. fields of

grass and evergreens,

little plates of herbal banchan,

lush of summers,

and squirming caterpillars

all existed as paran-- that same

color ascribed to vast oceans,

and sunny skies

then one lively spring, chorok

creeped its way into our tongues,

demanding to be seen on

street signs,

the mountain tops, and

cross walk lights

though some still speak "the light

turned paran",

and the incorrigible children's tune

singing of spring

blossoming into paran,

chorok sprouts an entrance

undeniable to out naked eyes.

escapril 2019 // 10: femininity

the bus,

back slides down on the uncomfortable bus seat,

fingers stroke through my freshly buzzed head,

while many eyes fixate above my eyes,

asking:

"is she a boy or a girl?"

"is she a lesbian?"

"what happened to her… hair?"

eyes read their faces,

mouth struts a big yawn with no reflex system telling me to conceal it.

imagination floats to a stadium,

feet stands on the podium,

voice declares:

I'm still so-very-much a lady--

just not fair like Audrey,

nor dainty like a stereotype,

or as brave as Joan,

and definitely not as attractive than most

but maybe more like

the ones writing history

now.

escapril 2019 // 11: not from your perspective

most of the time I sit beside the maroon sofa

where you watch tv and transform into a potato

I wait and wait for that sweet moment

you grab my handle

travel me to a flat desk

wind me up with thread

hook me up to a pedal

switch my light on

smooth out a piece of fabric

pinned up in zig zag

then

zoom, crackle, buzz,

your hands sync to my rhythm

you pray I don’t jam

or break your thread

then you announce with pride

“et voila!”

escapril 2019 // 12: spring cleaning

it takes two countries

few cities

thirteen houses

fifteen boxes

thirty trash bags

and an infinite repetition of

"do we need this?"

for a soul to grasp the spider web line

between a desire and a necessity.

then a decade teaches the

same soul

sometimes,

spectrums soften

escapril 2019 // 13: celestial bodies

if only

seeing you was as easy as

some nightly glow at your half

reflecting off

a big blazing ball of light on my half

escapril 2019 // 14: make it rhyme

a sonnet-full of embellishments, fake

notions of how lovely you are like some

weather in summer or spring, homemade cake

that tastes like cheap flour and rotten eggs, numb

from clichés, the love songs that never shut

up, posed photos of arms around my waist,

a let-me-take-that gentleness, so what

are you doing? leaving sour aftetaste

in our hearts. no, this sonnet is not for

us. we don’t need guidelines to fall in love,

nor the recipes known to prevent war

(it cannot be all fair in war and love),

so stop. steep in this silence as your hand

finds mine in this complicated quicksand.

escapril 2019 // 15: describe a smell

a dash of prickliness:

prickly, like appa’s beard attacking my forehead as he plants a kiss.

then an overwhelming sense of saltiness:

salty, like that time I accidentally used the spoon side of the seasoning bottle

or tasting my own sweat or tears.

something rotting at slow decay.

fruit flies feast.

my nose shoots me back to

halmoni yelling something in dialect, umma replying.

I stand in the middle of the market square, I’m ten.

they promised me jjajangmyeon,

my nostrils can hold out just a minute more.

escapril 2019 // 16: any dreams?

five—

I was to be a Pokemon trainer by day

and Sailor Moon by night

but adults hung my creativity dry

seven—

a singer-songwriter

but music chose me not

ten—

fashion designer,

draw designs, sew coutures, walk the runway myself

but whispers yelled discouragements

fifteen—

couldn’t care: I was a realistic teen

now—

I tip-toe about my heart

trying my best not to pick on scabs,

unable to answer any questions

albeit an I-don’t-know

has never sounded more

comforting and clear.

hear the wounds heal

to the beat of the unicorn hooves.

escapril 2019 // 17: body as friend or foe

I was born in Guatemala,

but my father’s from Georgia

he’s a musician, he produces

K-pop albums and we travel the world

searching for the next big deal,

my mother paints apples, she’s from Zimbabwe

she also writes Chinese poems.

It’s all true—

my body deceives every bit of reality within me.

escapril 2019 // 18: a happy place

hear nose tickle

with the sound of lavender feathers

fluttering by

eyes will open up to inhale

the golden hours spent

under Your glorious dance

escapril 2019 // 19: without your name, who are you?

if an utterance of a name

can form a heart,

her name has been called by many

if each spoken word forms

a vibration into what we are,

she's a someone

whispered into a myriad of paradoxes:

she's an asteroid, crashing fast,

uncontrollable, unexpected.

she's a cup of tea, calm,

idle, ready for nothing.

escapril 2019 // 20: a liminal space

this amorphous ground feels comfortable,

excuses acceptable:

the excruciating humidity,

drowsy rain, busy friends,

false pride, miscalculating time.

they say:

Prufrock measures his life in coffee spoons,

but Zeno says nothing ever reaches its destinations.

the Knight holds his tongue

yet his heart flutters a violent beat.

I’m just another contra, letting my feet skip away

as each step echoes heart beating somewhere

back.

escapril 2019 // 21: it’s the end of the world

no zombie apocalypse,

the sun still functions,

stars are still, hearts

unbroken, no one

escaping to Mars,

no fatal goodbyes.

one silent pink noise

a purple glow,

“welcome back home”

it said.

escapril 2019 // 22: nourishment

last month, I met a little

potted plant.

I took it back to my little

suffocating room

and named it little

foggy star.

I loved it little

by little

I gave it little

droplets of water,

spoke little

words of compliment,

took it to my little

window sill

the sun peeped through

a little.

it grew a little,

I did too.

escapril 2019 // 23: when the party’s over

recollect spilled laughters —

this, for unworthy jokes,

that, for suave comments,

maybe one for someone dreamy —

bottle them up,

keep them fresh

for the next sea of

stragglers,

mutual someone,

you-look-quite-nice,

wow-so-interesting.

escapril 2019 // 24: liar, liar

how to be a compulsive liar

one: disregard empathy, embrace despondency, think selfish,

my life doesn’t have to tell truth tales, no one needs to know.

two: rehearse recollections, think practicality, use names they’d never check,

let myself believe in each detail, each sight, smell the scenario

three: speak the perfectly fabricated phrases into existence,

no need to bat an eye, stutter a detail, overthink a loophole.

for example: “yeah, the party was fun. we walked around the park afterwards.

who? oh no, he wasn’t there. he had an important family dinner.”

four: remember the lie, inform reliable partners in crime if necessary,

never bring it back, stick to your guns.

promise yourself: they can’t hurt, they’ll never know.

remember: truths hurt, they’re inconvenient, it’s none of their business.

dig: until your shovel breaks.

drown out: every kindness the world has to offer.

die: in the said dug hole, climb out just to

repeat: until trust is a pair of cracked glasses, refuse to see a redemption until

die again: learn that these walls must go —

invite: the uncomfortableness that is vulnerability

repeat: until system reboots.

escapril 2019 // 25: pick an animal

my giraffe friend

shades me when the sun’s high

and warms me when the wind’s rough,

meeting her eyes pains me with

an aching neck,

she will always stand tall in a room,

there’s no shelf too high for me,

when she’s close by.

escapril 2019 // 26: girlhood, boyhood, childhood

when I was older, I had a pair of

very pink sneakers

they'd glitter in the sun,

glamoured in gemstones for dignity

velcros loud enough to turn heads

when it was time to take them off

I glanced over my neighbors' shelves:

ugly. blue. brown. ugly. mine trampled over all.

then my eyes stood silent

as I zone in

on her pair of Gundam sneakers

secretly jealous, mostly confused,

extremely frustrated of rule-breaking

girls, defying pink, watching animation

for boys only

now, I wear boring black or white shoes

so do most humans with feet.

escapril 2019 // 27: the state of it all

“you're it!”

a harmless push from their arms

my chest thrusts back

limbs under a spell

all bones removed

“catch me if you can”

why don't you save me

'cause you can?

escapril 2019 // 28: reflection

memories retraces a blur

crooked smile

red dye fading

cigarette between your fingers

standing mostly on your right leg--

you let out a puff as i tell you “i’m imaginary.”

you say you couldn't have

so i tease you more with a kiss

“that wasn't real

that was you imagining it all

new school

a manic pixie

the loneliness got to your brains

that's all”

you flick away the cigarette

eyes reflecting my face

you kiss me back and say

“please don't do this to my brain

you're real

far too real for me i'm not smart like that”

i snicker

the buzzing bus terminal is real

you and i are real

but i'm not

you're no more

escapril 2019 // 29: may flowers

she died a few days ago—

flew off the rooftop

fallen against teeming

reborn lives

the most beautiful of flowers

only last a day or two

you said we are beautiful

because we’re ephemeral

but what happens when

fleeting moments like

a crash kilometers away

pain for someone I never knew?

escapril 2019 // 30: catharsis

yesterday, I cleaned out my room

bugs infested each and every corner

I tried to catch them but they

hid away between the nooks and crannies

whispering schemes to each other

learning the dustiest corners I’ve ignored

waiting for a perfect time to kill

so I dusted out the corners

rearranged the furnitures

repainted the scratches

thinking cover-ups should make anew

yesterday, I cleaned out my room

praying for the bug spray to kill,

I felt seventeen, rearranging photographs,

filling up a space with desired personalities,

she would have been proud

there’s nothing I’d tell her, but to say

yesterday, I cleaned my room, for another hundredth time

they say an odyssey is a cycle

ending with a catharsis

where you come clean

but yesterday, I cleaned my room

again

#poetry #poems #escapril #escapril 2019 #writing #writer #amieko #journal #reflections

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cheerioss · 5 years

Text

Marinette: Guardian of the Miraculous

part 2

i have too many wips but im writing something else again :)) (woes of a writer/artist/just creators don’t @ me here)

so my brain clearly isn’t prioritising so here’s a really very long lil one shot based on this post i found by @aly4son and it’s pretty cute and fluffy. i decided to make some changes and add some stuff here as well becuz i love fluff hope it’s okayy. this took pretty long becuz i had to figure out how to put everything together ://

and as it stand it is getting way too long so im gonna have to put up a second part whoops.

—

“Hmm… Add a little of this…, a drop of water from the Dragon’s Tears Fountain… Oh, don’t forget the edible glitter…”

Marinette was adding different ingredients to her pot, swirling her wooden spoon at the same time. She was preparing for her final test before she was officially declared the new Guardian of the Miraculous. However, she needed a break from all the formulas and power-up functions. So, she decided to continue playing around with the concoction she’s been working on for weeks, hoping to complete her experiment that afternoon. She knew she could just finish it after her test, but she could feel that she’s so close, and was eager to observe the results.

Ever since she started learning the recipes of the power-up potions, she wondered what other power ups she could try making, if it were possible. She’s been trying over and over again, playing around with different kinds of ingredients. She’d even brought some items from the bakery, if only to give it a little taste and colour. (And also to test a theory of whether it can be used to make power-up potions. It did work out in the end, but only some foods.) She remembered Chat mentioning that Plagg hated those power-up cheese (said it tasted like “liquidy goo you humans take when you’re sick”) and decided to mess around with flavours.

“And… Done! Tikki? Up for another round of taste testing? I think I’ve got it this time!”

“Of course, Marinette! I’m curious though, why did you add the glitter?”

“It’s for flair, for the potion I’m brewing. If this works, you’ll see why I wanted glitter in there.” Marinette threw in a wink, and dipped a little spoon inside the pink, glittery liquid. Tikki floated towards it and took a sniff, noting the scent of champagne coming from it. I wonder if kwamis ever get drunk, didn’t think we’d try that before in all the time we spent in the miracle box.

She quicked sipped the delicious brew, and immediately felt a tingling sensation.

“It’s happening! It worked!”

In a flash of pink, Tikki transformed, her usual self now a sparkling crystal-like texture, her centre spot and tail (?) now dazzling diamonds.

“Wow… Well, what power up is this?”

“It’s called the Elegant power up, ooooooor Exquisite. Haven’t really decided on the name yet. It’s just a little fun power-up I came up with, you know, like a fancy dress transformation.”

“Cool! I’m sure Kaalki would love to try this power-up. It’s glorious.” Tikki laughed at her own little joke.

Oh, how she wished she could snap a photo of Tikki, but kwamis don’t show up on cameras. It was a great accomplishment, and she was really proud of herself. Specially created with an original outfit designed by her, a sketch of the design slowly added into the mixture while it boils. (Another absurd theory that flitted through her mind.) Never thought this crazy idea would work but here we are.

“Alright, I’m going to try transforming. Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Marinette!”

“Elegant Tikki! Spots on!”

The familiar feeling of transforming washed over Marinette, yet it feels completely different at the same time. The swirls of pink magic disappeared to show a red cocktail dress with exquisite black sequins scattered on silk, the fabric a darker shade of red than what she usually wore. Extremely fancy indeed.

A Mandarin collar wrapped around her neck with a mini brooch which had a symbol engraved into it, a representation of her Chinese heritage and the pattern associated with the Miraculous. The top half had black polka dots, embodying her super-persona’s namesake, along with a matching mask and gloves, both of which had intricate embroidery. Her hair was pulled up into a stylish updo, braids twisted to form a crown above her head. Her red heels has little ladybugs on them, just like the one in her hair. Just how she imagined it.

“Wow, this is even better than what i would have done!” Marinette twirled around, noticing that the outfit has a litte glittery shine to it. Now she wish she would get to wear this someday; she felt like a princess! (Well, it was pretty funny because Chat would always call her civilian self that.)

In the midst of admiring her work, Master Fu walked into the room. His eyes widened at the sight in front of him, and Marinette shrieked, quickly transforming back to her usual self.

“Ah, sorry Master! I was messing around with an idea I had and I completed it just now. Don’t worry, I was practicing potions before that.”

“I’m not mad, Marinette. On the contrary, I’m actually very pleased that you have managed a feat that even my masters were unable to achieve back when I was in training with them. Perhaps I could show it to them when I return for a visit.

“In the mean time, how about you use this power-up for your Guardian officiating ceremony. It is something to celebrate after all and you deserve it.”

Marinette didn’t know what to say. She just thanked the master profusely, grateful for the opportunity to try out her new invention. She didn’t bother trying to refuse because she knows that there would still be one no matter what she says. Master Fu simply waved it off with a chuckle.

“Now, would you like to have your final test today or prefer to still wait for tomorrow? I feel that you are ready.”

—

School was still a priority, being in senior year and all. Marinette could only work on designs during her free time, and with Hawkmoth around those are scarce. Marinette would sometimes sketch out ideas besides finishing her homework, for fear if forgetting them. She absolutely hated it when an idea struck while she was busy fighting an akuma.

Good thing was, she didn’t need to worry about measurements. The miraculous will ensure that everyone’s suits and dresses would fit them to a t. So all she had to do was make sure that the designs represented each of the holders perfectly.

Tikki wholeheartedly agreed that Marinette deserved to be celebrated as the new Guardian, she hadn’t had a holder who was a Guardian since millennias ago. She was positively buzzing with exhilaration, moves animated with so much zest Marinette was afraid she might explode.

Chat was the first person she told about becoming a Guardian. He was surprised, after all he wasn’t aware of her receiving training, but that was short-lived as he immediately tackled Ladybug in a humongous bear hug for her sensational achievement. He even said, and I quote, “My, I’m honoured to be graced with the presence of the great and powerful Guardian of the Miraculous Box,” topped off with an exaggerated bow and a kiss to the knuckles.

He was also ecstatic about the prospect of a new transformation. Ladybug told him to assure Plagg that she had added a different flavour to it, and will add some cheese to his batch on top of infusing it in his beloved camembert. That night, Plagg denied purring loudly in his sleep. (“You were dreaming, Adrien. Hallucinating!”)

Three months of constant sketching and resketching, coloring in and retracing it for the potion, Marinette finally got the designs out. She asked the kwamis for their opinions on the designs, (after a mini celebration of their own, obviously.) and they gave their input. Some even made flavour requests, though they still kept the champagne in there as they loved it and it made the power-up more fancy.

Then it’s another week of measuring, mixing, and carefully infusing the correct batches into the different snacks. She almost put Wayzz’s herbal tea flavoured potion into Pollen’s honey comb, if not for Tikki and Wayzz’s interference. Oh, the look of horror on Pollen’s face would send Plagg laughing with tears.

With everything ready, it’s time to paaaaaaaaartay! (Clearly Xuppu was here :) )

—

With the help of Chat Noir, they managed to get the miraculouses to the respective holders’ rooms before they arrived home from school. She handwrote all the dissolving letters containing the information, taking care to use her cursive. Those online lessons really paid off, even Tikki couldn’t recognise that she was the one who wrote it.

Ladybug hid behind a rooftop as she watched Max open read the letter, coming to the conclusion that everyone else is doing the same. She hoped that she had made her instructions clear enough, considering how… excited some of her classmates could be.

—

Everyone was confused when they found a box in their rooms, realising soon after that it was a miraculous box. Alya and Chloe immediately opened their boxes, paying no mind to the paper that were below.

“Oh, finally! Ladybug is giving the Miraculous to me! It’s about time.”

“Trixx! Does Ladybug need me?” An extremely loud gasp, “Oh my gosh, is she here? Do I get to hold on to my miraculous?”

The kwamis questioned had to clarify that no, Ladybug was not nearby as there is no emergency, no, it was only for a few short hours, and no again, the miraculous was technically not theirs but “belonged” to the Guardian for safekeeping unless they are permanent holders. They were only temporary holders who are called upon when their help were needed.

(Ladybug and Master Fu had them make sure they got it through their heads after getting irritated when some people kept begging for it again. And also to inform those whose identities were compromised that it was their last time using theirs.)

“Please read the letter before you do anything, Alya.”

“It contains some important information that you really must know before you call upon me, my queen.”

All holders read through the letter:

“Dear [Name],

I hope this letter finds you well. I’m to be officiated as the new Guardian of the Miraculous, and it would really make my happy if you could join me tonight. Along with your miraculous, you will find a small snack for your kwamis. It is to be consumed strictly before transforming, so do not waste it as I’ve only provided a small piece.

You will transform tonight at 4am, going going to the address listed below. Don’t worry, the kwami will be able to help you with that. I know it is late but this is to ensure no reporters or your parents will see you sneak out. Hawkmoth rarely comes out at night anyway, so that’s a bonus.

Chat Noir and I are greatful for your contributions as the heroes of Paris, so we would also like this to be a celebration of thanks. Hope to see you there!

Signed, Ladybug

Address: 53 Rue de Corentin, Petit Fortune Hôtel 3rd floor”

The letters dissolved with a flame of green sparkles, kwamis reaffirming the chosens that they know the address and will help them navigate.

#miraculous #ml #mlb #marinette dupain cheng #master fu #ml kwamis #guardian!marinette #ml ficlet #miraculous ladybug

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aurtisticmind · 5 years

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OK, So I’ve been spending all together too much time on social media (TikTok, Instagram, and Tumblr specifically). I’m starting to feel like I’m severely lacking in talent. I am pristinely ungifted (that’s a reference).

There are so many amazing content creators out there. Cosplayers, make-up artists, drag queens/kings, dancers, people who can draw or paint amazing things, people who share funny or heartwarming stories, folks that tell jokes, people sharing knowledge, people who can cook or share helpful tips, skilled crafts-people who are glassblowers or blacksmiths...

It leaves me feeling vastly underqualified for social media in general. I can’t help but worry that maybe I don’t have anything to share. I mean, let’s be honest here... I’m struggling. I have no social outlet - I am terrified of anyone acknowledging me, but at the same time, I would be beyond thrilled if someone reached out and chatted with me. It’s a weird line... I don’t like in-person interaction (I screw it up every time - thank you Asperger’s), and I’m afraid to make new friends because sometimes I have health issues that keep me down for weeks or months at a time. It’s hard to maintain any social life.

I don’t know the first thing about make up. I fail as a girl on this level - I’ve always lived by the mantra “If you don’t like the way I look, then look somewhere else, because I’m not changing for you.” - and yeah, I’m well aware that I’m an overweight 30-something woman... Five high risk pregnancies, decades of misdiagnosed and untreated mental health issues, and the chronic pain thing that can leave me barely able to get out of bed for months on end have left my body... not in the beautiful androgynous muscled form it once was... I’m suffering from body image issues for the first time in my life, and it’s brutal. I don’t want to put my ugly face or fat body in front of a camera. With no make-up skills, I don’t even have a way to attempt to salvage the mess that is my face.

I do not have a deep enough passion for any one specific character to cosplay (to the level I think it should be done). And again with the make up and body image thing... though I am currently trying to re-invent myself. Dear daughter has suggested I start with Hange (Hanji) from Attack on Titan - since we have similar personalities and I have brown hair already, so no need for a wig... Maybe.

I used to be androgynous and I loved it. LOVED it. I loved the looks I’d get - all androgynous people know “the look” - where someone stares from your face to your chest, sometimes at your crotch and get that squinty confused look as they try to decide what pronouns to use with you. I loved that. I loved it when people thought I was a guy and treated me as “one of the guys” in my friend groups. Unfortunately, five pregnancies, nursing five babies, and years of mental and physical health issues have left me... definitely not androgynous anymore. I’m stuck in “fat old mom” look now... (send help).

I sketch, but it usually looks like something a third-grader could come up with. I’ve tried painting - which I love, but it’s always abstract and honestly, anyone can do it... I have no talent.

I can cook, but it’s more likely that I’m throwing together what I have in the cupboard and I hope it turns out... I have a big family to feed and we rarely eat out (too expensive). I don’t measure anything, and I never know if it will turn out or not. Or I’m just modifying a known recipe... like adding some home grown blueberries to pancake batter, or swapping a couple spices to our taste, or changing the protein source. Nothing worth social media posting. I am not a gifted chef, nor do I use rare, expensive, or especially tasty ingredients, and my flavors are palatable at best. At least I rarely burn things, right?

Sure, I make things sometimes... but I am far from skilled. I can make rudimentary jewelry, cat toys, and the occasional very very basic sewing project. I can crochet, but I can’t read a pattern, so what I make is always made up... I’ve made pot holders, dish cloths, purses and bags for each of the kids, scarves, hats, even blankets... but I have no way to show someone how I did them, and who wants to watch social media videos of someone crocheting?

I have lots of stories and stuff, but it seems that’s usually best delivered with your face on camera.

My body is not built for dancing... and my singing is probably best left to belting out a favorite song in the car or at home when nobody else is around.

I like to think outside the box, but honestly, I don’t even know now. I feel like I have no usable skills to be on social media, so I spend my time posting photos of my animals instead. I mean, they’re a lot cuter than I am anyway. I am severely lacking in self-confidence.

If you’re still with me - thank you for reading through all of this. My question to you - Do you have any talents that aren’t really “in demand” for social media? I can’t be the only one who’s failing at virtually everything, right? Can someone please send me tips or pointers on how to break out of my shell? I’m right there, but I can’t seem to take that giant step of pulling off the mask and opening myself up to the hate comments...I need a push to get out of my comfort zone.

#pristinely ungifted #no talent #why am I here again?#I can't girl #send help #push me

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arcanalogue · 4 years

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The Sackcloth And The Cloth-of-Gold

I made friends with artist and children’s book creator Jill McElmurry back in 2011 or so, she’d found me through a mutual friend and at some point reached out to let me know she was a big fan of Arcanalogue. This was during a period when the project was on hiatus, so I was moved and very grateful for the vote of confidence.

Jill sent me Christmas cards annually, and dropped me little notes sometimes. We never met in person, so when she passed away in 2017 it was very jarring. I guess I always figured we’d get a chance to meet and laugh in person someday.

That year, however, I received another Christmas card, from her husband Eric, who reached out to let me know he’d be continuing her tradition. And so he has, for the last two years, which has been a bright spot during the holidays.

The other day I came home to a surprise in the mail from Eric, containing these. It’s one of the 1970s Rider Waite decks, with the more muted colors and matte finish, and upon opening it I immediately sat down and counted all the cards, as you must do first thing whenever you’re considering picking up a vintage deck — it only takes one missing card to throw you off, so you have to count them carefully to make sure you’ve got a complete set.

The excitement was distracting, so it was hard to keep count. 78! The gang’s all here.

Before I started “cleaning” the deck, putting the cards right side up and sorting all the suits into numerical order, I paused for a moment, holding them, appreciating them: the cards had been left in their current configuration by another’s hands. Jill’s? Someone’s. I was picking up where another diviner had left off.

We so often are.

The deck shows a lot of use: some stains here and there, creases on corners from inadvertent folding, and the deck itself is warped into a kind of ripple. I’ll have to be delicate with it, one careless shuffle could result in actual tearing.

I broke the deck into small piles and did a little massaging to help smooth out some of the warping; what you see above is actually an “after” shot. And since then, it’s been sitting here waiting for me to finish this week’s work so we can take a moment to get acquainted.

I took it down to the riverbank with me this morning, crossing a few naturally-occurring stepping stones to sit on a shady little island of matted flood debris where we wouldn’t be disturbed. And then I just shuffled the cards for a while, smoothly and carefully, the sound overlapping with the shallow water rushing past.

Since resurrecting Cas’s tiramisu recipe this past week, several of my non-ancestral dead have suddenly leapt into focus, popping up in memories and conversations. This week was the anniversary of Dave Moon’s memorial gathering. It was the week I ended up explaining to someone about the tremendous pride my friend Phyllis took in waging a bitter real estate feud with Madonna (whom Phyllis considered one of her only worthy adversaries).

All of these are people I lost in the past five years, all of whom nudged me ahead in my pursuits, all of whom provided a template for me to follow, whether they realized it or not — and if they didn’t, I certainly hope they do now.

Working with ancestors is its own mysterious experience; you’re dealing with a lineage that spans so much time, so many strangers mixed among the beloved faces you remember, so many alarming inclusions, all standing atop mountains of the faceless dead whose reach you extend, simply by existing.

But those we meet and love in this lifetime, what are they? How do we knit them into our fabric after the thread’s been cut? The people I come from don’t have traditions for this, so I’ve had to adapt my own.

Last week I happened to share a quote from Lawrence Durrell’s Justine, without realizing how apt it would turn out to be. It was accompanied by a picture I’d dug up from 2007, showing a view from another riverbank, near my home in Brooklyn, through several layers of rusted chain link. The full quote is:

“I am neither happy nor unhappy; I lie suspended like a hair or a feather in the cloudy mixtures of memory. I spoke of the uselessness of art but added nothing truthful about its consolations. The solace of such work as I do with brain and heart lies in this – that only there, in the silences of the painter or the writer can reality be reordered, reworked and made to show its significant side. Our common actions in reality are simply the sackcloth covering which hides the cloth-of-gold – the meaning of the pattern.”

What I hadn’t gotten around to sharing was the note I’d found taped to the fence on that bitterly cold day, along with the bedraggled remains of bouquet.

“In memory of my friend Sandy & her lover. Sandy and her lover drowned in these waters on January 31, 1986 Sandy accidentally backed a vehicle into the water off of the pier. Her lover died trying to save her. Sandy was free spirited, young, beautiful, talented and a loyal friend. I wish I would have had a chance to tell her that I love her before she died. Sandy, I miss you and think of you all the time. Love, Laura”

Pondering Laura’s note back in 2007, I’d written one addressed to my future self:

“Not every day or every year gives you your own story to tell, or someone to tell it to. In the lean times the stories that blow in with the dust, sprout under garbage, or are left taped to the fenceposts, will be enough to sustain you.“

I find these everywhere. Photos, documents, and notes to other people end up in my hands. I carry them a while, sit with them. Sometimes I stash them away, other times I just release them back into the wild.

I suppose it’s the same with our friends and loved ones. We hold each other for a few moments, and then let go, with no real certainty as to what will happen next. We’re wild creatures who want to be tamed. We’re tame creatures who want to run wild. We are accountable to each other, up until the moment we aren’t.

And even then, sometimes, we still are.

The cycle repeats endlessly, and continues onward even after we die. That’s how fabric is made — not from one long, continuous string, but from many fibers wound into many strings, and since the sackcloth of life is very rough indeed, it conceals a multitude of knots, seams, and patchwork.

And the cloth-of-gold beneath, the meaning of the pattern... I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but it involves nothing truly being lost, not ever. Time holds us. The fabric contains us. It is us.

Sitting by the Los Angeles river in November of 2019, I cut Jill’s deck and drew a card to instruct me in its use. What would our work be together?

I would have accepted any answer, but this one felt very instructive, consoling even.

It had occurred to me the other day, I am the dictionary definition of inconsolable. I don’t accept comfort or care easily, not even from those I love and trust. I have to find a way to give it to myself. One of the reason I’ve enjoyed the company of wise, weird, creative elders is that many of those who’ve really tried to care for me have succeeded where others have failed.

Losing them, I’ve had to learn to give these gifts to myself, on their behalf. The comfort of ghosts is better in many ways than the kind offered by the living. Feeling for the dead, we make a space in ourselves that remains open to them, and working from within that space they continue to influence us. In a way, they become us. Or we become them. Or both, the way lightning actually arcs from the ground and sky simultaneously, colliding somewhere in the middle.

I am inconsolable. At a fundamental level, nothing in this world can console me. But while thinking it over, it did finally occur to me that the cards come the closest; the peace I get from contemplating and writing about them has proven to be my steadiest source of comfort.

What does that mean for my future? What does any of it mean? Durrell’s words keep ringing in my ears: “Only there, in the silences of the painter or the writer can reality be reordered, reworked and made to show its significant side.“

I have done this, am doing it, will do it. Chatty as I may be, nearly everything I’ve accomplished in life is a product of these long silences. If you want me to show you how it’s done, I can certainly try. If you want to exchange small comforts, even in silence, I would be thrilled to receive them. Per my usual disclaimer: “I will do my best to reply.”

One reason I tend this site is so I can keep replying long after I’ve departed. In fact, the day after receiving Jill’s deck in the mail, I managed to complete Arcanalogue’s “Search By Card” function. This way I don’t even have to be here to offer an opinion! I’m hoping to backdate some older entries from pre-Tumblr Arcanalogue so the full project — the version friends like Jill enjoyed — is here.

I left a small post-script on that page, dedicating it to her. Would it have occurred to me if Eric’s package hadn’t arrived? If I hadn’t dirtied every dish in the kitchen making Cas’s dessert? If I hadn’t just been combing through Phyllis’s old emails, or marveling at Dave’s final art project — a mask of his own face, which ended up in the room where he died, earning a special place of honor at his memorial?

The dead aren’t obligated to tell us what they know about any of this... but it would still be very wise and very kind of us to listen.

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